Ai!SJ9A|un 6unoA tueq6ug \' One might as well my thoughts exterminate — My place in pedigree annihilate, Or the warm pulse of life eradicate; As to efface or to remove from me, The sentiment of Nationality. It of my nature constitutes a part — Unites with all the life-blood of my heart; And if no trait or portion of my spirit, 'Tis something I eternally inherit. Not all the charms surrounding scenes impart, Can chase the high-ton'd feelings from my heart; For oft — full oft, so tenderly they yearn, A kindling impulse prompts a fond return Unto the land of my nativity — My native home — my native scenery. POEMS. 37 But where— O where the land so choice— so dear? Which is the nation I so much revere? I do not languish for the lakes and rills — The rugged heights of Europe's Alpine hills — The verdant vales which beauteously repose 'Neath their bold summits of eternal snows; Nor would I boast a proud nativity On the luxuriant plains of Italy, With glowing, sunny landscapes, rich and fair — Tall city spires, and grand cathedrals there; Where the salubrious climate's genial heat Gives to the pulse, a soft and ardent beat; Where nature with accelerated force, With less of time, completes her wonted course. Nor yet in Germany, where laws are made To fit like tenons for the joiner's trade — Where ev'ry code of civil policy, Mocks the precision of Geometry — Where ease and luxury are smiling round, And merry glee and cheerfulness abound : Where summer meadows and the harvest field, To man and beast, a joyous plenty yield. Not Britain, with its mountains, hills, and dales; Including England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales; With inland products and ship-crested coast — Comprising much that wealth and honor boast: With far-fam'd Cities, Towns, and Villas too, Where genius nourish 'd and where valor grew: 38 POEMS. With all varieties of grade and sphere Of home, sweet home, most lovely and most dear— The honor'd home of noble thousands; where Are executed with judicious care, Those legal pow'rs, created to bestow Protection's banner, on the high and low; And where religious toleration, now, Above all elsewhere, lifts its manly brow. Not Sweden, Denmark, Norway, nor in France, Where revolution's onward strides advance, And then recede; as tides that ebb and now — As moons that waxing, waning, onward go, While soft refinement, with its graceful air, Displays a master-stroke of polish there : Where vinous foliage, native fruits and rlow'rs Yie with exotics, in luxuriant bow'rs. Neither America's much favor 'd land, Where Lehi, guided by Jehovah's hand, Obtain'd a place for him and his to be Thro' generations of posterity. Where those choice records— where the truth was found, As said Isaiah, "speaking from the ground." Not coasts, nor capes, nor Islands of the sea: For none I cherish fond partiality. I say with brother Eddington; I'm not Italian, Hindoo, English, German, Scot; Neither American, Swiss, Welsh, or Dane, Nor yet an Islander from ocean's main, POEMS. 39 Nor Spanish, French, Norwegian or Swede — I claim no country, nation, kingdom, creed, Excepting Zion: — that I proudly name — That is the home I fondly love to claim. Were I to boast of Nationality, I'd go beyond this frail mortality. The noblest spirits scatter'd o'er the earth, By truth's eternal infl'ence gather' d forth From Babylon to earthly Zion, here, Are on their way to heav'ns celestial sphere. Our inns— our stopping-places, which, or where, Don't matter, when we've paid our bills of fare. One God — one faith — one baptism — we are now All in one kingdom — at one altar bow: The union of the Father and the Son, Is heav'n's true pattern — we must all be one — All local feelings must be laid aside, And former differences no more divide. The time approaches — Soon will Zion be The pride of earthly Nationality; When 'twill the histories of those adorn, Of whom 'tis said, they were in Zion born. The holy Spirit, every saint receives; Is one sense added to what nature gives — It forms a pow'rful telescope, whereby We look beyond the stretch of mortal eye : Its keen perceptive vision takes a view Of origin and destination too. Through this superior spirit sense, we learn What our inferior senses ne'er discern — 40 POEMS. That we're not natives of this fallen earth — We liv'd before — we had an earlier birth— A clime and habitations highly pure, Beyond what these gross senses can endure. There is the charm, the Nationality, The spring of impulse actuating me — That is the point to which I would attain— The country — home, I fondly would regain; From whence, for noble purposes, we all, To gain experience thro' our Parents' fall — To gain the zenith of perfected worth, Have come on pilgrimage, thro' mortal birth. As foreign trav'lers, each, a camping ground, On diff'rent portions of the earth, has found, The force of habit gives to each a grace — Peculiar charms to each and ev'ry place: And yet, with all the adoration felt, As at their shrines devotedly we knelt, Not one — not all possess'd sufficient worth, To make us feel quite nat'raliz'd to earth. Our hearts beat upward, and our feelings move In homeward currents, towards those we love, Where uncorrupted nature's beauties glow — Where life's pure streams from endless fountains flow And there the sixth, the spirit-sense will lead, If, to its dictates, we give earnest heed; And its refining process will prepare Us for a full and free reception there; And there we'll talk of Nationality, With the Celestials of Eternity. POEMS. 41 THE HOPES OF HEAVEN. The hopes of heaven beguile life's checker'd way, And light us onward to the world on high. Go, follow to yon humble cottage, him Whose early matin is primeval with Day's dawn, and who is seen from morn till night In cheerful toil, beneath yon brow-beat hill. Misfortune met him at his birth, and mark'd Him her's and he had no alternative; And more than twice ten summer's suns had roll'd Around, when all he knew of choice, was just To mould and shape his will, to the bare form Of stern necessity. He wept, sometimes; But when his spirit felt more resolute, He would impugn the heav'ns, and curse his lot. Meanwhile, he toil'd and struggled hard, just to Preserve his head from crushing, under the Keen tort'ring wheel of grim adversity. There is a light which has been known to shine Upon the darkest path: It shone on his; And he is happy now, as from between The leaves of Truth's supernal volume, he Draws richest treasures forth, or listens to The words of inspiration as they flow From God's own servants, with his spirit filled. The pinching hand of this world's poverty Lies on him yet; but all its heaviness, 42 POEMS. Has vanish 'd, and it is no burden now; And all the multitude of little cares That throng'd his path, and teas'd and vex'd him then, Surround him yet, but they are dispossess'©! Of their morose and peeyish influence, And seem quite harmless and dispassionate. Now every form looks beautiful to him, And every sound is full of melody. Go to that sick one's couch, whose steadfast faith, Reposing on the everlasting word Of Him who does not lie, has kindled in Her bosom, the pure flame of heav'nly hope; And in whose heart the glorious visons of Eternity are truthfully impressed. Step softly o'er the carpet — let not a Harsh sound disturb the quietude of the Frail tenement, which has, by long disease, Contracted close affinity with the Unsocial land of silence. Go up now Stilly to the bedside, and gently o'er The pillow bend, and listen silently, And catch the high aspiring note, and mark What thrilling joy her spirit fosters when 'Tis striking hands with frail mortality. Preserve the secret, in thy breast, rather Than tempt the cavil of a faithless world. They tell us, every hope that bears beyond This little life, is but the phantom of A fragile heart, or a disordered brain. POEMS. 43 TO A STRANGER. Far from the land that gave thee birth — O, canst thou find no spot on earth, So fondly dear to thee, As the heart-woven land thou hast left far behind, In the earliest wreath of young mem'ry entwin'd, With the friends of your childhood that eharm'd you so long With the soft mellow tones of the juvenile song, In the strains of affectionate glee? You see, no more the limpid rill That purl'd beneath your fav'rite hill: O, will you love to stray In your recklessness now, by a strange streamlet's side? Will you feel in your bosom, that innocent pride, Which stole on you so oft, when the light of its spell Gave new charms to the dew-drops which lusciously fell On your own— your lov'd path, far away? You've left behind your social train: W'ill your fond spirit rest again, And feel security In the bosom of strangers you never have tried By the ebb and the flow of prosperity's tide? 44 POEMS. Or, will it retreat on the wings of regret, To the frequented bow'r, where most lovingly met Those which friendship held sacred to thee? Believe me : here are friends as kind As those whom you have left behind — Green walks, and streams that flow, With a current as clear, and a murmur as soft, As the one that has filFd your rich musings, so oft: O, then sever yourself from the chains of the past, Unto which your affections are fetter'd so fast; Since the present, has gifts to bestow. But can you not the fairy chase That binds you to your native place; Rather than feel unblest; To the friends of your childhood — your country your home, Go, go and be happy — 'tis folly to roam: Go: return to the shade of thy fair dropping vine, Where the pulses of nature seem wedded to thine; Go, and lull thy lone spirit to rest. POEMS. 45 CONTENTMENT. Contentment is wealth that I would not resign For all the gold dust, ever found in the mine: 'Tis a boon so unearthly — a jewel so fair That with crowns, thrones, and empires will never compare. And I would not exchange it for beauty's fine grace Nor all fickle attractions that time will erase: Boasted honors and titles I freely despise, When contrasted with this incomparable prize. Would you feel in your bosom a music of soul, Like the soft gliding stream's imperceptible roll? — Clothe your mind with a sweetness surpassing the rose? Fondly cherish the fortune, Contentment bestows. What! that passive contentment that laziness screens, Which recoils at the use of appropriate means? That inactive content which can carelessly wait, And leave objects adrift on the ocean of fate, And not hazard an effort, nor reach forth a hand, By the dint of exertion to bring them to land? The cold stupor that reigns when the heart-strings are mute, And which fills the warm bosom with feelings acute? 46 POEMS. No; no: but the charm which spontaneously springs From a view of the nature and order of things. Not a torpid inertia, with pulses confin'd; But a principle in, and controling the mind — That sweet placid compliance, which virtue inspires, And which rigid necessity often requires. Yes, that cheerful concurrence that heaves not a sigh O'er the change-woven sceneries that time ushers by: Which performs as a limner, when prospects grow pale, And creates a bright lamp in obscurity's vale: Which can smile at misfortune, and sport amid toil — The dark-omen 'd predictions of poverty foil: Which extracts the rough poison from malice and hate — That which draws from oppression its heaviest weight — Wakes up speech in retirement and sportively sings, In the midst of life's storms, inexpressible things: Which presides over feeling, with power so strange, That oft varying condition's divested of change. If contentment's true impulse benignly imparts Submission's sweet influence over our hearts, Nine-tenths of the varied discomfitures here, Recede in the distance, and rarely appear; And whate'er of life's comforts are graciously given, Are used with thanksgiving as blessings from heaven. POEMS. 47 NARCISSI TO NARCISSUS. Deaf was my ear — my heart was cold: My feelings could not move For all your vows, so gently told — Your sympathies and love. But when I saw you wipe the tear From sorrow's fading eye, And stoop the friendless heart to cheer, And still the rising sigh: And when I saw you turn away From folly's glittering crown, To deck you with the pearls that lay On wisdom's fallow ground: And when I saw your heart refuse The flatt'ring baits of vice, And with undaunted courage choose Fair virtue's golden prize: And when I saw your towering soul Rise on devotion's wings: And saw amid your pulses, roll, A scorn of trifling things, 48 POEMS. I loved you for your goodness sake And cheerfully can part With home and friends, confiding in Your noble, generous heart. TO A YOUNG SAINT. Fair, youthful Maiden, dost thou comprehend The honor, dignity — the glory, and The high responsibilities compris'd In your profession? You've essay'd to be A Saint of God — to be an heir of his, And a joint heir with Jesus Christ, to an Inheritance, eternal in the heavens. Number'd with Zion's daughters, you are rais'd In honor, high o'er earthly princesses. Thine was a favor'd lot, when o'er thy path The everlasting Gospel spread its light. That was a time of interest — a scene, On which the angels gaz'd with holy joy, And made sweet mention of your name, in strains Of tuneful sympathy; when your warm heart, Beating with youthful expectation, and The sunny hopes of life's unclouded day, POEMS. 49 Was open'd to receive the glorious rays Of truth, supernal, emanated from The gushing fountain of eternity: And when beneath the liquid wave, you clos'd Your eyes to this world's fascinating scenes, You started upward. Lady, onward move, Nor turn aside, though earth and hell combine Their hateful wrath and all the low disguise Of saintly hypocrites. There's none can stay Jehovah's hand; and nothing will impede The conquering footstep of his glorious work. A crown of brighter glory than the sun In yonder firmament, will yet be seal'd Upon the faithful Saint. But now, it is A day of sacrifice. Ease, honor, wealth, Must be surrender 'd to obtain the prize: E'en reputation, dearer far than life, Is doom'd to surfer cruel martyrdom. The Lord permitted satan to go forth And prove the faith and the integrity Of Job, his servant: and he suffers now, A lying tongue, with base impunity To stalk abroad. But God — the hosts of heav'n, And ail the best of earth, are on the side Of innocence. Then Lady, fear no ill, Except departures from the glorious truths, Communicated from the world on high. 50 POEMS. Angels have falVn ! Be this thy monitor To check the first faint glow of confidence In human wisdom and in human strength. Confide in God, and cheerfully receive; Fearless of consequence; what he reveals From time to time, thro' his own prophets here; Then, neither principalities, nor pow'rs — Things present — things to come, nor height, nor depth, Can separate us from the love of God. THE HERO'S REWARD. Well may the fire of glory blaze Upon the warrior's tread, And nations twine a wreath of praise Around the hero's head. His path is honor, and his name Is written on the spire of fame. His deeds are deeds of courage, for He treads on gory ground, Amid the pride and pomp of war, When carnage sweeps around: With sword unsheath'd he stands before The foe, amid the cannon's roar. POEMS. 51 If such, the meed the warrior gains — If such, the palm he bears— If such insignia he obtains — If such the crown he wears: If laurels thus his head entwine And stars of triumph round him shine; How noble must be his reward, Who, midst the crafts of men, Clad in the armor of the Lord, Goes forth to battle when The angry pow'rs of darkness rage, And men and devils warfare wage. Who goes tradition's charm to bind, That reason may go free — And liberate the human mind From cleric tyranny — To sever superstition's rod, And propagate the truth of God. Who wars with prejudice, to break Asunder error's chain; And make the sandy pillars shake Where human dogmas reign: Who dares to be a man of God And bear the spirit's sword abroad. Who with his latest dying breath Bears witness to the truth — Who fearless meets the monster death, To gain immortal youth; 52 POEMS. And enters on a higher sphere, Without a shudder or a fear. Above all earthly, his shall he An everlasting fame; The archives of eternity Will register his name — With gems of endless honor rife, His crown will be Eternal Life. THE DAY IS DAWNING. Lo! the mighty God remembers Joseph's children in the West: In the day of their redemption, Shem with Japhet will be blest. CHORUS. Behold the day — the day is dawning — Darkness flies before our view: Old Lehi's children are returning, To walk in the light of Zion too; And we all will shout aloud hosaima. POEMS. 53 Glory beams on Ephraim's mountains — Beauty smiles on Ephraims plains: Streams of joy, from heav'nly fountains, Join with music's sweetest strains. chorus — Behold the day, etc. Come you wand'ring sons of Lehi, Learn the ways the white men love: Long the curse has rested on you — God will soon the curse remove. chorus — Behold the day, etc. Lo! ye scatter'd tribes of Israel, Ephraim and Manasseh too; Here the banner of salvation Is unfurl'd and waves for you. chorus — Behold the day, etc. THE LAMANITE. The Great Spirit, ('tis said,) to our forefathers gave All the lands 'twixt the eastern and western big wave: And the Indian was happy — he'd nothing to fear As he ranged o'er the mountains and chased the wild deer: 54 POEMS. And he felt like a prince, as he steer'd the canoe, Or explored the lone wild, with his hatchet and bow — Quenched his thirst at the streamlet, or simply he fed, With the heavens for his curtains — the hillock his bed. Say, then was he homeless? No, no, our hearts beat For the dear ones we loved, in the wigwam retreat. But a wreck of the white man came over the wave: In the chains of the tyrant, he learned to enslave : Emerging from bondage, and pale with distress, He fled from oppression— he came to oppress. Yes, such was the white man, invested with power; When almost devoured, he could turn and devour. He seized our possessions, and fatt'ning with pride, He thirsted for glory, but, freedom he cried. Our fathers were brave — they contended awhile, Then left the invader the coveted soil: The spoiler pursued them — our fathers went on, And their children are now at the low setting sun. The white man, yet prouder, would grasp all the shore — He smuggled, and purchas'd, and coveted more. The pamper'd blue Eagle is spreading its crest Beside the great waters that circle the West — Behind the west woods, where the red man retires, The white man has kindled his opposite fires, To fell the last forest and burn up the wild Which Nature designed for her wandering child! Chased into environs, and nowhere to fly — Too weak to contend and unwilling to die: POEMS. 55 O where will a place for the Indian be found? Shall he take to the skies, or retreat under ground? Such are the breathings of the Indian's soul. Alas! that scathing, withering, dwindling thing, Degeneracy, the own legitimate — The natural offspring of apostacy! Its living monument appears before Us, in the filthy, poor, degraded race Of Lehi's once delightful, righteous seed. Once noble, civilized and well refined — Walking in all the statutes of the Lord; The golden gems of happiness adorned His path, and he walked forth with noble tread, In the most elevated forms of life Portrayed by earthly human dignity. He then was wise and most intelligent, For he drank freely at the flowing fount Of heavenly wisdom and intelligence, And held communion with the worlds above. Then he was white and very beautiful, For then, the spirit of the Lord, which is The soul of beauty, and imparts a charm To all that's beautiful, reigned in his heart And glowed in every action of his life — His animated features shone with bright Reflected beams of God's own countenance. But mark the change! As habit blunts the edge Of sensibility, so seasons of Prosperity, continued long, will lull, To guilty sleep, appreciation's powers; 56 POEMS. And man, dependent, mortal man, forgets The bounteoits hand from whence all blessing flow. Blinded by mammon's glittering bribes, he grows Proud in his heart, and vain in all his thoughts; And pressing to his lip the cup of vile Iniquity, swallows the deadly draught, And sinks in degradation's dark abyss! But justice slumbers not. — He has afhx'd To every law, rewards and penalties; And in His courts, Judges and Jurors take No bribes! Therefore, the dreadful curse of God Upon the Lamanite, fell heavily. What has beginning, also has an end. The self-same power, that unto breach of law, Affixed a punishment, has also to That punishment, prescribed a certain bound, O'er which it cannot pass. « 8 * * » * Times, seasons and their changes, all fulfill Th' eternal purpose of Jehovah's will: Justice must have its legal, full demand, E'er soothing mercy can extend her hand. The night of ignorance, which deep shades distill'd On the poor red man, nearly is fulfill'd: Another key, the Priesthood turns, and lo! The glimm'ring rays of light begin to flow From the broad fountain of eternal day, And hope is ho v 'ring o'er his darksome way. While this last dispensation's moving on, To Joseph's scatter'd remnant's day will dawn— POEMS. 57 Their hearts will beat responsive to the sound Of truth, as spoken from Cumorah's ground: The scales will fall which now becloud their eyes, And they, in faultless purity arise; And the now loathsome, savage Lamanite, Will, when the Lord removes the curse, be white: He'll learn our ways, and feel as saints should do — With them unite in building Zion, too. He'll yet go forth, and from his thicket den, "Asa young lion," prowl on guilty men — The scourge of justice — vengeance's rod, he'll be, To punish men of blood and cruelty. Ere the great indignation goes abroad, It has beginning at the House of God: The judgments that will make the nations fear And tremble, must be felt and tasted here. * * * * * * Peace to their footsteps, whosoe'er may go To Lehi's sons, the path of life to show. What though the cup seems bitter in your hand? Those who, as saviors on Mount Zion, stand, Must home and ease, and love of self, forego, To bear salvation unto those below: 'Twas thus Messiah left the courts above, To fill a mission here, of life and love. Thus go, the cheering lamp of life to bear Wherever Jacob's scattered children are: The ancient fathers will your labors view, With faith and prayer — with guardian watchings too: 58 POEMS. The tarrying Nephites, also, will appear From time to time, to guide, instruct and cheer. Shrink from no duty — fear no future ill: He that preserves us, will preserve us still. THE THOUGHTS OF HOME. O, is there aught so gently strange By stoic reason taught, With all the rare varieties Of pain and pleasure, fraught: Where, without contradiction, The bitter and the sweet, With such surprising placidness, In combination meet: Where the extremely opposites, Of joy and sorrow come, Commingling so harmoniously, As in the Thoughts of Home? The Thoughts of Home — how strangely dear, While fond affection deigns to cheer; For hope will sing in spite of fear, And transports brighten with a tear. POEMS. 59 Sweet tones of pensive playfulness, Move thro' each blissful lay; Much like the blush of evening, Amid the blaze of day; And all so indiscribably, They, only know, who feel The magic of its soft embrace, Across the. bosom, steal: And none but stranger-hearts can feel; And only those that roam, Can know the sober ecstacies That swell the Thoughts of Home. The Thoughts of Home! ah, who can tell The charming music of its spell, When mem'ry bids the chorus swell, On which reflection loves to dwell. When busy day, retiring, Withdraws its radiant eye; And scenes of wild confusedness In still composure lie: When nature's arms are folded Upon her sluinb'ring breast, With all her brilliant gaieties In sullen sadness drest; O then, the stranger's inmost soul Exults to meet the gloom, And feed its fond affections on The cordial Thoughts of Home. For then the Thoughts of Home are prest With warmest ardor to the breast, 60 POEMS. When recollection's golden crest, In night's soft shadowy form, is drest. 'Tis now the morning twilight Of the millennial day: Its dawn is fast approaching — We see its cheering ray; As on our spirit-pulses, . The Priesthood's dews distil, Bright prospects of our better Home, Our waking bosoms thrill; Where "holy habitations" are, By hands immortal, made, And with eternal beauties crowned, Whose lustre will not fade. And while as strangers, here we roam And stem time's billows, tide and foam, Like life-inspiring cordials, come The Thoughts of our Celestial Home. MY OWN-MY COUNTRY'S FLAG. I love that Flag.— When in my childish glee, A prattling girl upon my Grandsire's knee, I heard him tell strange tales, with valor rife- How that same Flag was bought with blood and life; POEMS. 61 And his tall form seemed taller, when he said, " My child, for that, your Grandpa fought and bled." My young heart felt, that every scar he wore, Caused him to love that banner more and more. I caught the fire, and, as in years I grew, I loved the Flag — I loved my country too : My bosom swell'd with pride, to think my birth Was on this highly favor'd spot of earth. #;? «** *t* 7^ ''*,' *'" *?» Tiiere came a time, I shall remember well — Beneath the " Stars and Stripes " we could not dwell: We had to flee: but in our hasty flight, We grasped the Flag, with more than mortal might; Resolved, that, though our foes should us bereave Of home and wealth, our JElag, we would not leave. We took the Flag, and journeying to the West, We wore its motto graven on each breast. Here, we arrived in peace; and God be praised, Anon our country's glorious standard raised; And the dear Flag, in graceful majesty, Hail'd o'er the mountains, " Union — Liberty." Fair Freedom spread her garlands 'round us, though This land was held in claim by Mexico. 'Twas not as now, with cities spreading round, And nature's products flowing from the ground — With shelt'ring roofs, and plenty's genial smile, With luscious boards, to nerve the arm for toil. 62 POEMS. No spade nor plow had stirred the sleeping sod- No whiteman's foot, the turf had ever trod: 'Twas all a waste, lone, desolate and drear — The savage roamed — the cricket chirruped here. Exiled from home, a long and weary tread, With meagre outfits — scanty was our bread: Grim-faced necessity enforced a strife — We battled with the elements for life. But God was with us, and His wisdom saved — High, o'er our heads, the sacred banner waved: 'Mid shouts of joy, I saw that Flag unfurled, And wave, on mountain breezes, to the world. 'Tis waving yet. — Forever shall it wave : Beneath its spire, celestial Peace shall lave. Hail to the Banner of the brave and free — All hail, to Union, Truth and Liberty. ODE TO LIBERTY. Hail, the Day when Freedom, first, Proud oppression's fetters burst — Hail, their shades, who boldly durst Liberty proclaim. POEMS. 63 Chorus. Here, amid the mountain sky, Freedom's Flag is waving high — Let the heav'n-born echo fly; God and Liberty. Hail, the Banner of the brave, Streaming o'er the patriot's grave: Here, forever shall it wave To protect the just. Chorus— Glorious Fourth! The day is ours — We have nourished Freedom's powers, And with us, her standard tow'rs To Jehovah's throne. Chorus— God, who moved our worthy Sires, When they kindled Freedom's fires, Utah's noble sons, inspires With the sacred flame. Chorus — Here, with God-like grasp, and bold, We, the Constitution hold, Pure as when its sacred fold Was, at first, bequeathed. Chorus— 64 POEMS. Peace, the gift that Freedom gave, When she crowned the wise and brave, Bids her royal banner wave O'er our mountain home. Chorus— Peace, for which our fathers bled — Peace, on which the nations tread — Peace, the angel-form, has fled To these mountain vales. Chorus— Freedom spreads her wand abroad, Prompting all to worship God, Fearless of the tyrant's rod: Glorious Liberty! Chorus — Freedom, Justice, Truth and peace, Shall in Utah's vales increase: Shout, O shout, till time shall cease, Truth and liberty! Chorus — Here, amid the mountain sky, Freedom's Flag is waving high — Let the heav'n-born echo fly — God and Liberty. POEMS. 65 THE YEAR. HAS GONE. List to that sound — that rolling chime: Hark ! 'tis the busy knell of Time : The year has gone, And borne along, The hopes and fears — The smiles and tears Of multitudes unknown to song. The year has gone, and in its train, Such scenes of pleasure and of pain, As bear us on From life's first dawn, Thro' flowing deeps— O'er rugged steeps, Until life's glimmering lamp is gone. The year has gone — but mem'ry still, The curtain holds with fairy skill: As if to keep Old Time asleep, While scenes roll back Upon their track, And recollection takes a peep. 66 POEMS. The year has gone — but yet, a trace, Which Time's broad besom can't erase, Is left behind To point the mind , To deeds perform 'd, And prospects warin'd, Closely with future years entwin'd. The year has gone, and with it fled The schemes of many an aching head; The half -formed schemes, Like fairy dreams, Which take their flight Before the light, Or perish in the noon-day beams. The year has gone, and with it flown The sage's thought — the songster's tone- Gone to pervade Oblivion's shade: And with them dies No more to rise, The product of the Poet's head. POEMS. 67 PEACE IN THE STATES. There's a pause — there's an ebb in the nation tide— There's a check on the reins of fratricide. Hush'd is the cannon's thundering roar, And the clarion's sound is heard no more: No more the shrill cry of, To arms! to arms! Stirs the feverish war-pulse with fresh alarms: The brave warriors' chargers have ceased to tread, With proud prancing step, over heaps of dead. No more, on the crimson'd battle field, In hostile dread array, In armor equip 'd — with sword and shield, And with hearts that yearn to slay; Brother with brother— son with sire — Kindred with kindred meet, And kin against kin, with mortal ire, The war-drum of battle, beat; Who seem'd, by mutual demon impulse, driven To send each other, sword in hand, to heaven: They all were " Christians " — by one faith endow'd- Pray'd the same prayer — at the same altars bow'd. That awful scene has closed; and yet, not all Of sorrow ceases with the curtain's fall: One peep behind the scenes, would much disclose, Of bleeding anguish and a world of woes: 68 POEMS. The warm heart sickens at the distant view — God help the widows and the orphans too; And succor female innocence; and give The pure in heart protective pow'r to live, E'en tho' corruption with its gold-gloved hand Should grasp the reins, and rule throughout the land. And now of boasted peace, pray tell Where the pure goddess deigns to dwell: Ye statesmen, if you'll tell us where Freedom is free, sweet Peace dwells there: What truthful patriot would dare, Pointing to Congress, say, " tis there? " If Peace is there, it apes a mouse, Both in the Senate and the House. It is not, altogether a " mouse in the wall," ' Tis a mouse in the sanctum and one in the hall — ' Tis a mouse in the desk, and it nibbles the laws, And it nibbles the lock od the Treasury's draws, And it nibbles the vetoes, and nibbles the pleas, And would fain nibble Utah as mice nibble cheese; But for all of these nibblings, we'll give it ablution, When it ceases to nibble the old Constitution. Is it true, peace and freedom have sometimes met, By mere chance, in the President's Cabinet? And say, is it true that Sarnbo is free? He seems ill at ease in his liberty, Which is like a wild bird — the North caged it, and In its cage, it now nutters in Sambo's hand; And full many dilemmas of various mixtures Are now interwove with our national fixtures. POEMS. 69 They call it a peace, when the deadly strife Is over, which battles with life for life. Office trafficers, swindlers and their vile horde Will entail worse mischiefs than fire and sword: When corruption mounts the chariot of Time, Peace will not remain in the province of crime. There's a time — it will come, when these evils will cease — From the throes of our nation, the Phoenix of Peace Will come forth in proud triumph, and Liberty, then, Will, with Justice and Truth, bless the children of men. THE HYPOCRITE AND THE TRAITOR. I hate hypocrisy— that velvet thing With silken lips, whence oily words flow out. 'Tis like a mildew in the social cup Of life— 'tis worse than mould — 'tis poison— 'tis A worm disguised, that eats asunder the Most holy cords of confidence, that bind In cordial fellowship, the hearts of men. Kind words, with falsehood in them? Yes, how strange ! Designed to please— and yet, they do not please, But sting, like vipers, into frienship's core. 70 POEMS. I love sweet sounds — soft and melodious, That chime with pure unsullied nature's tones; But to my soul there is no melody In sounds, however smooth, devoid of truth. I'd rather hear the dashing cat'ract's roar, Or the rough clamor of the swelling surge, Or listen to the thunder's bursting peal, Than creamy words, with glowing eloquence Dress 'd up, which savor of dishonesty. If I were ignorant, blind, or were a fool, I could take down the soporific draught, And call it good, and look the author in The face, and smile, and be no hypocrite. But when I'm like my Maker, God, endued With intuition, (be it e'er so small) I do, like Him, love truth and honesty. Although it savors much of treach'ry, There's many a fashionable, well-disposed, Kind feeling hypocrite, would not betray; But aiming for your good, they, Jesuit-like, Believe " the end will sanctify the means," And thus destroy the jewel, confidence. I will not dip my pen in gall: Then how Describe that vice of vices — treachery? The traitor, holding claims on manhood, is A gross burlesque upon his Maker's form, And would be, were he rightly classified, Of crawling reptile kind, so serpentine, That as the anaconda twines itself POEMS. 71 Affectionately round its victim, till Life yields its empire to the fond embrace; So coils the traitor, when his aim is death. How sordid is the wretch who sets a price For traffic, on his brethren, kingdom, friends — His nation, country — his salvation, all! And what the price? Perchance a paltry sum Of Gold— a little speck of that same gold, With which, the common streets of Zion will Be pav'd, on which, the faithful Saints of God Will tread. Perhaps he sells at cheaper rate — For only the vile, rotten friendship of The villainous, who more despise him for The very treachery, purchased with a kiss. God has implanted in the human heart, A love of honor, right and righteousness; And he, within whose soul, this attribute Of Deity, dies out, has fallen far Indeed, below his natal innocence. 'Twoulcl seem, the traitor's heart would be its own Reproof, as he with hellish purpose, joins In all the various walks of Church and State — With a mock interest, in grave councils, meets, And sits in judgment on his country's weal: With seeming sanctity, he mingles in The circles met for holy prayer and praise, And dares the name of God to utter: Yes, "He prays like Abel, and performs like Cain.,, 72 POEMS. The ancient Judas, modern Arnold aped — Some others, later still, I've known, but they Are gone, and with them, let their mem'ries rot: All their successor's fates will be the same — Their ghosts will meet in Pluto's nether shade. But traitors have been, are, and will be, till Satan is bound, and all his imps destroyed. Many betray through ill-plac'd confidence: With no intent of crime, committing crimes — Let such, take counsel and henceforth, beware. " Hell is let out for noon" — foul spirits are, With all their wires, at work — coarse wires and fine, To draw in traps, in readiness to spring. Let none presumpt'ously conceit themselves, Impervious to all their thousand schemes, While aiming to be greatly good, be wise; Goodness is not sufficient — wisdom fills Salvation's judgment seat and Chair of State. Integrity leads to the Godhead— Truth Is God's own pass -word at the gate of heaven. POEMS. 73 THE CHAMPION. What champion comes with piercing eye — With bold and manly brow? Whose lip has never quiver'd: Why? He never broke a vow. You see no cringing in his look — No flinching and no fear: And why? No bribe he ever took — No flatt'ry charms his ear. He shows no tremor in his hand — No fait 'ring in his tread: He's form'd the living to command, And rule the mighty dead. The same in person ev'ry where, And champion all the while, Tho' deck'd with gold and di'monds rare, Or clad in peasant style. The soul of gifts he can dispense; Mark well to whom he gives: He smiles, and wounded innocence Looks up — revives, and lives. 74 POEMS. His whisper reaches ev'ry ear From insect up to God: The nations all, his voice will hear— The guilty feel his rod. What mean those accents swelling high? His words in thunders roll: A trembling shakes the earth and sky — 'Tis felt from pole to pole. His finger on injustice laid, He casts a with 'ring frown; And grasps his sword with sharpen 'd blade. And cuts oppression down. Who is this noble champion, who, Alike in age and youth? I love him, tho' his friends are few: His name — I'll speak it: Truth. POEMS. 75 THE GOD I WORSHIP. : O Lord my God, thou art very great : thou art eloWd with honor and majesty" — All the gods of the nations are idols; but the Lord made the heav'ns." Hebrew Psalmist. Let the pagan claim for his god of war, An unconscious thing on a stupid car — Let him bless the leek and adore the cow, Or before the Lama of Thibet bow. Let ambition's dupes to its altar hold — Let the miser boast of his idol, gold: And let pleasure's votaries sacrifice To a faithless god, for a doubtful prize: And let all that bow at the shrine of fame, Feed their hungry god — 'tis an empty name. Let devout sectarians place their hearts On a god without passions, form or parts — One that kindly deign'd in the days of yore To converse with men, but will speak no more. Ah! they cannot boast of a God like mine, In whom love and pow'r in perfection shine. How inferior theirs, when compar'd with;Him, The Eternal Father, the Great Supreme? 76 POEMS. He, whose wisdom call'd this creation forth, And the sons of men, introduc'd to earth — He, whose finger marks ev'ry ocean's bound, While he moves the revolving planets, round — He, that " holds the firmament in his hand," While tiie seasons yield to his stern command — Who, in human form sent His likeness down, To declare himself, and his love make known — That unequal'd love, that could stoop to die, That an earthly race might be rais'd on high — Might partake the streams of celestial kind, From-the fountains of the Eternal Mind: — He, whose noble attributes are rife With the gifts and powers of an endless life — He, who, through the Priesthood, has kindly giv'n To his saints, a pattern of things in heav'n; Who has also giv'n thro' his pow'r and grace, Both Prophets and Seers for these latter-days — Who, the laws of light and life to unfold, Is conversing now as in days of old. He, who condescends to proclaim his will, And unto his servants, his mind reveal — He, who led us here, to these peaceful vales — He, whose loving kindness never fails. There is none beside, I would call my own, For the Lord is God and He alone. POEMS. 77 OUR RELIGION. Who can describe its worth? It is all worth. 'Tis perfect in its parts to man reveal'd; But finite understanding cannot reach Its vast infinitude— its lofty height; And yet, in man's low, frail capacities, It meets him, and it ministers unto His nature, in each varied circumstance. It meets him in his vile, degraded state Of sin and sorrow, warrings, toils and strifes; Where passion rules him while ambition goads, — Gives him control o'er his own fallen self — The vict'ry over evil pow'rs unseen, Which, fiend-like, oft infest the atmosphere Of this degen'rate world. It gives him, too, The vict'ry over Death — the tyrant Death — Disrobes its hand of all its terrors — turns Away its sting and gently modifies Its pain and bitterness. It kindly lifts The vail which hides th' eternal world from view And gives man access to the heights above: It stirs within his soul the inner life, That precious germ of immortality, 78 POEMS. With wisdom, knowledge, hope, joy, peace and love, Quick'ning the fire of thought, and all the springs Of consciousness; endows him with the pow'r To live for ever and for ever be In form and feature his own perfect self — Imparts the keys by which he may detect False men, false messengers, false spirits and False everything, and ultimately will Place him on high, enriching him with thrones, With principalities and pow'rs, and crown Him with the gifts and pow'rs of endless lives. "Pearl of great price!" 'Tis worth all sacrifice Of this world's honor, and its pride of life- Its prejudice, ambition, and self-love, With all their kind. 'Tis more than amply wrorth Our long endurance of unnumber'd ills, Heap'd up by persecution's clay-cold hand. No matter what or how things come and go With us and ours, if we adhere unto Our pure religion and, in heart and life, Honor, respect and cherish it. 'Twill lift Us out of sorrow, sickness, poverty, Reproach, injustice, and remove from us The red-hot lava and its clouds of smoke, Which roll in streams from Falsehood's burning pit. ' It holds the heav'n-acknowledg'd claim on Truth — All Truth — all truthfulness, and all that's true In nature, science, policy and art: It tests and circumscribes all creeds and all POEMS. 79 Religions — knows their origin and sees, And can define their future destinies. It holds the present, past and future in A link — connects one dispensation with Another, then another, and so on, Till all the dispensations that are past, Combin'd, comprise the fullness of our own. 'Tis of high origin. 'Tis not a thing Of earth. Its home is in the bosom of The Holy ones — 'tis self -existent and Coeval with th' Eternal Deity. "TO BE, OR NOT TO BE." To be a Saint, or not to be, Is ev'ry one's prerogative To choose. — If from volition free, You make your choice, that nobly live. The feint of doing things by halves, Is worse than doing not at all : Can'st worship God and golden calves? Bear Jesus' cross, with satan's pall? Will God and mammon, be allied? Can Jesus Christ and Baal unite? 80 POEMS. Will truth and falsehood coincide, Or darkness propagate^ the light? Then, wherefore think with mockery, Or base deception to prevail? Why bend to God the fait' ring knee, And yield the heart and hand to Baal? Why, smiling, gaze upon the cloud, Which, gathering, forms the deadly blast? Why, tamper with the coiling shroud, Till in its folds it binds you fast? Who waits the thunder's voice to tell Of the fierce lightning's fatal stream? Or trusts th' enchantress' fairy spell T' avert the lifted poniard's gleam? Rise, trim your lamps and make them bright- Keep ev'ry thought and eye awake: Gird on your armor, for the fight — Truth, freedom, virtue, are at stake. You who indulge in carnal ease, Awaken from your treach'rous sleep, Rise — ev'ry post of duty seize, And sacred, ev'ry coy'nant keep. When God a crucible prepares, It burns with dross consuming heat: His threshing floor will waste the tares, But He'll preserve the precious wheat. POEMS. 81 WHAT IS, AND WHAT IS NOT FOR WOMAN. 'Tis not for her to plough the deep, And gather pearls from ocean's bed; Or scale the rugged mountain's steep, For laurel wreaths to deck her head. She gathers pearls of other name Than those the ocean's bosom yields — Fair laurels never known to fame, She culls from wisdom Is golden fields : 'Tis not for her to face the foe Amid the cannon's thund'ring blaze; Or shudder at the winds that Jblow Tremenduous gales in torrid seas. But there are f oes^of other^f orm — Of other aspect, she should /m ell; And whisper music to the storm, When seas of passion rudely swell. 'Tis not for her to lead the van — To be ensconced in Chair of State, To legislate 'twixt man and man — ^Nations and laws to regulate. 'Tis hers to fan the sacred fire Of manhood's true nobility — The heart of nations to inspire With patriotism and liberty. 82 POEMS. 'Tis hers, with heav'nly influence To wield a mighty power divine — To shield the path of innocence And virtue's sacred worth define. 'Tis hers to cultivate the germs Of all the faculties for good, That constitute the Godlike forms Of perfect man and womanhood. 'Tis hers the sunbeam to sustain Amid misfortune's chilling breath — To silence grief — to solace pain — ^ To soothe and cheer the bed of death. His pathway in the battle lies — He should not fear the raging flood: Give man the breast-plate courage plies, But give to woman, fortitude, THE GRAVE. 'Tis a shadowy region, where close in retreat, A dispassionate people unconsciously meet. Its pale nations are quiet — exempted from care — No unhallowed ambition intrudes itself there. There's no thirst for dominion — no envy of gain — No vain strife for preferment to rankle the brain. POEMS. 83 There bright crowns lose their lustre, and sceptres decay: There the slave drops his fetter — the tyrant his sway: Power loses its terror and wisdom its charm — Fame erases its signet, and beauty its form. 'Tis a land of deep silence, envelop'd in gloom: No soft accents of music enliven the tomb : 'Tis a dark lonely defile, which none can evade; But however unsocial, there's light in its shade, Since its all pow'rful Conqueror explor'd its domain, And dissolv'd its enchantments, by rising again. There's a time-tide at midnight, that flows to the dawn, And a track on the desert where others have gone— There's a path in the forest, which footsteps have made, And a voice in the thicket, directs to the glade — There's a light on the ocean, ascends to the sky, And the Grave is life's conduit to mansions on high. THE TATTLER. It has been said by some, that woman* heart Should never hate. I know, the placid wreath Of gentleness, is beautiful upon 84 POEMS. The female brow; and that the pure, white wand Of innocence, by woman wielded, has A salutary potency, that's far Superior to arbitrary power — That in her bosom, love's sweet mellow tones Are more congenial to the sphere which heav'n Design'd for her; than hatred's bitterness. I know the worth of woman's rectitude: It is the fairest gem upon the crest Of social life: and I would not presume To step beyond the sacred halo of Propriety: But there's one character I even dare to hate. And e'en in this Age of effeminacy, is there who Would say — would think it is a crime to hate The Tattler, whose unhallow'd business seems, To wake up nonsense and to stir up strife? And after all, I feel my heart relax, And pity is preponderating in My breast. I pity ev'ry human form, Degraded with that most detestable, And mo>t ignoble trait. Whose head is but A vacuum where vanity presides, And sits enthron'd o'er pompous nothingness: Where, if reflection chance to come, she finds No seat — no resting place— no lamp to shine Upon her path: but like a traveler, When lost in some dark spacious catacomb, Amid the mould'ring heaps, to stumble o'er POEMS. 85 Unconscious matter, without path or guide; She's lost in everlasting hopelessness. Wretched propensity — and wretched the Possessor of this bane of social life! Whose soul, if soul is there at all; must be Unto non-entity so near allied, As to require a microscopic pow'r To swell it into visibility. But while I pity the possessor, if I should not hate, I surely may despise The character, the mean propensity, 'Tis falsehood's vehicle, and slander's tool To throw dark shadows over innocence, And magnify misfortune into fault. It often serpentinely creeps into The sanctuary of domestic life, And with the sacred key of confidence, Draws out the secrets of the drawing room, And puts thern on the morning breeze afloat. I hope I never shall commit a crime Of such enormous magnitude, as to Subject me to endure that frown of heav'n, The torment of the Tattler's senseless tongue. I'd rather live in solitude, amid The deep impervious wilds, and listen to The silent speech of Nature; and regale My spirit with the music of the breeze. 86 POEMS. HINTS AT MATTERS OF FACT IN UTAH. Say, have we "fall'n on evil times " — a day When Inquisitions hold assumptive sway? When law and equity are thrust aside, And ermin'd cliques o'er right and justice ride? What strange absurdity 'twixt church and state, When a Chief Justice claims to legislate In men's religious faith — whether express'd, Or pent within the brain, and non-confess'd? When, for opinion's sake, men must be shrived And of the right of cit'zenship deprived! Say, who would pillage, rob, or steal your purse? Yet thrusts at consciences are grossly worse. Mob raids— judicial raids — whatever name May be applied, all raids are much the same; Altho' an outrage might seem more polite Committed in the day, than in the night. When human legislation seeks to grind The conscience, and religion's form to bind; We're fearless of results, for God o'errules The acts of men — the wicked are but tools To fill a purpose in these latter days, For e'en the wrath of man shall work His praise: The wicked shall destroy the wicked when His vial'd wrath is pour'd on guilty men. POEMS. 87 To us, as advocates of freedom's cause, And loyal subjects to all legal, laws, 'Tis surely no soul-pride-inspiring thing, That magistrates are leagued with " whiskey ring," And thus degrade the umpire form'd to be A safeguard to our peace and liberty. Can honor's badge — can honor's titles screen Dishonor's deeds and motives false and mean? Though high officials prostitute their power — Like vampires, peace and liberty devour; Shall we the Constitution's Rights forego? Truth; Justice, Honor, Freedom, answer NO. Truth's mighty engine plac'd upon the track By God's decree, no power can force it back. What! Stay Truth's onward progress? No! As soon Extinguish yonder sun— blot out the moon- Remove earth from her orbit, and remove The constellations from the arch above; As well apply a puny, finite force To stop the planets in their brilliant course: As well might moles and bats the light defy, And seek to pluck the sunbeams from the sky. Truth's cause will triumph over all the powers Of earth and hell. Ye Saints, HIS cause is ours. 1876. 88 POEMS. HOW 70 LEAVES US AND HOW 71 FINDS US. Time makes no pauses: Each incoming year Must shoulder what its predecessor doffs. This is an age of lightning, gas and steam — An age of progress, energy and skill: When man aspires to wield the elements To his advantage. Proud in his success, He claims the honor of the triumph. God, Source of all good— of wisdom, science, art, Gets little credit for his gifts bestowed. The intellectual progress of the age Outstrips accountability; and men Let fall the moral lever from their grasp; And infidelity and wickedness Keep even pace with march of intellect. Respect foi justice, truth, integrity And honesty, at heavy discount stands. The great hereafter, man's eternal all, Is by the wholesale on the altar laid ! For what? To gratify the passions, and The eager — all engrossing thirst for gold. Truth, honor, manhood and nobility — True confidence, the royal pedestal POEMS. 89 Of life's choice blessing, social happiness, With sweet affection's fond endearments in Domestic life— the bliss of loving and Of being loved in faith and purity, Are sacrificed to passion, and for wealth! In this fast age of double-motive power, Theft, murder, robbery, infanticide And foeticide, foul crimes, ignore restraint; While prostitution, life's most damning sin, Stalks forth in tolerating Christendom, With sin's infectious, vile increase, despite The many noble efforts to suppress It. Woman now, in fearful numbers falls A prey to man's base passions — men who spurn Pure matrimony's sacred altar — men Who perjure every holy vow: and yet They boast of virtue, faith and sanctity. Such are the men who would obliterate The heav'n taught principle of woman's right — The universal right — not of a few More favor'd ones; but sacred right of all, To holy, honorable wedlock. God Has introduced the pattern; by His law Women can fill the measure of their lives In virtue, honor and respectability: And to themselves, by holy rite reveal 'd, Secure in time, for all eternity, Men who are true to nature and to God. 90 POEMS. If those who're advocating "Woman's Rights," Will plead the right of wedlock for the sex, Till public sentiment shall guarantee, What God and nature recognize her right — The bonds of matrimony, legally Performed, and sacredly respected, with Virtue inviolate, they'll win a meed Of everlasting gratitude and praise. War is comprised in the dark catalogue Of growing evils. Europe's purple streams Now flowing, moan o'er Christian nations joined In mutual slaughter — legal butchery: Is this Christianity? Are these the fruits Of the pure gospel of the Son of God? Bogus Christianity and bogus faith! Worse than alloy — 'tis a base counterfeit Of that establish'd by the Prince of Peace. But wholesale murder, war, is much in vogue: Who slaughters most, the brightest laurels gains; And lightning messages with pride announce "Brilliant suceess," and "Splendid victories." Poor fall'n humanity! Oh, how demoralized! If mans existence ended here — if this Were all of life allotted; little would It matter how or when it comes and goes, And how 'tis husbanded: but this is but A speck, compared with life hereafter: yet 'Tis freighted with eternal consequence. POEMS. 91 In Utah, God has formed a nucleus Of peace and virtue — a pure government. 'Tis Heaven's own kingdom— God himself the King. It was forshadow'd in the visions of The ancient prophets. Daniel saw it, and Plainly predicted whence it would go forth, To conquer Satan's reign and rill the earth. Then wars shall cease, and men shall beat their swords To plowshares, and to pruning hooks their spears, And learn the cruel art of war no more. Th' almighty God has said it, and the time, His own set time has come; and He has made His people's feet fast in these mountain vales, For this great, grand and glorious purpose, which Not all the powers of earth and hell combined Can frustrate. God is at the helm, and He Will have a tried and faithful people, who Will do his bidding, and co-operate With Him and with each other, to sustain His kingdom, and inaugurate the reign Of everlasting righteousness and peace. 92 POEMS. OURSELVES AND OUR ENEMIES. We'll beat our foes at every game, If every game we play: No juggling part we act or claim — We'll fairly win the day. We've sought no trial of our skill — The games, we never set — We never made a move until They forced the movement, yet. Those who salvation's truth believe, But love to disobey — Who have eternal light received, And from its precepts stray; Now cherish wickedness: their hearts Are fountains of deceit: Apostate " Mormons," in foul parts, The world's low gamesters, beat. Of all the Apostle Paul endured, His perils were the worst, When with apostate saints of God, "False brethren," he was cursed: The gospel, like the fisher's net, Cast in the open sea, Both good and bad, at every set, Draws up promiscuously. POEMS. 93 Then marvel not, ye demagogues, Who're making much ado, If you by searching, here, should find Some even worse than you : Extremes in human life, must meet, To form a moral test; To make gradation's scale complete, We've here the ivoi^st and best. We've women whose intelligence — Whose loveliness and grace And virtues cannot be surpassed In all earth's present race: With honest frankness we confess, We have their contrast too, But thanks to God and righteousness, The number is but few. And we have men by God inspired, And clothed with power to bless — Their hearts with noble purpose fired — Their works are righteousness: They teach the principles of peace, Life, faith and purity; By which the pure in heart increase In truth and liberty. High-toned in spirit — in their lives They're far above reproach — They're just, and who should justice fear, But those who wish t' encroach? 94 POEMS. All men stand label'd by themselves— The actions prove the heart — The wicked deal in wickedness — The righteous, good impart. Though storm-clouds gather over head, And sharks the crew assail — Though obstacles so thickly spread That coward hearts will fail; Come wind or calm, 'tis all the same — No matter what betide, We, fearless, know the Great I AM Has pledg'd the ship to guide. He needs no sails for Zion's ship; Our foes may pause and wonder — They move us on at every clip, And row their own crafts under. They're tools in God Almighty's hand, To drive His work apace — To clear the ship from every strand; Their wrath shall work His praise. Of our own strength we do not boast — Jehovah is our trust; The Saints are His— His wisdom rules— His arm protects the just. Truth, peace and equity will claim The prize of latter-day; We'll beat the world at every game, If every game we play. POEMS. 95 A VOICE FROM UTAH. Think you our nation is improving? Hush! Or stern realities will make you blush. Look here in Utah where the President, A juggling class of ermin'd tools, has sent; To serve the people's interest? J¥o such thing! They came to serve themselves: a paltry uring" — To stir up strife — those sacred rights to sever Which our great Constitution grants us ever. They came for pelf — to feed their hungry purses With the hard earnings nature's hand disburses To honest industry and ardent toil; They came with greedy hands to take a spoil; They came fair virtue's bulwark to destroy, And desolate the homes where peace and joy And holy confidence had long abided, And sacred loyality in truth confided: They came — their actions show for what they came, And to the nation they're a burning shame, Unless the nation widely has withdrawn From the grand pedestal it stood upon. Where is the truthful dignity, O where! That legal functionaries used to wear? Where is the moral rectitude that guided Judicial acts, when honest men presided? 96 POEMS. All facts are stubborn, unrelenting things, And facts will speak in spite of serfs or kings; And Time's impartial verdict will report All facts, verbatim, in th' Imperial Court. Why, in the name of good old common sense, Should jurisprudence don a base pretense? Has Grant no better stuff at his command — No higher priced material on hand? Has Government no better class to give, And force the Territory to receive? If so, our nation's value is expended And her career of glory nearly ended. Mark well, when statesmen circumvent the claims Of equal rights, to serve perfidious aims: Corrupt Executives precede a fall — They write the " Mene Tekel" on the wall. When public offices are bought and sold — When jurors' verdicts are the price of gold — When men devoid of moral rectitude, Shall be intrusted with the people's good— When right of conscience stands in jeopardy, " Death's in the pot," and breakers on the lee. Let her proud flag float half-mast from its spires, When Freedom's altars dim their glowing fires. S. L. City, 1875, POEMS. 97 THE KINGDOM OF GOD. The kingdom of God is a kingdom of Order, With life in the heart and with power in the head: With each member in place, the whole body is perfect: Gradation existed when Order was made. Chorus. The kingdom of God is a kingdom of Glory — A kingdom of Righteousness — happy and free: With Prophets, Apostles — with Statesmen and War- riors: The kingdom of God is the kingdom for me. The kingdom of God is a kingdom of Power: In the midst of oppression its sinews have grown: All people who fight against Zion will perish — To tread on her peace is to forfeit their own. Chorus— The kingdom, etc. " The feet of the image, the clay and the iron," The kingdom of God, into pieces will break; The " brass and the silver " will also be broken: Earth's nations shall tremble — her kingdoms shall shake. Chorus — The kingdom, etc. * _ j POEMS. The kingdom of God is a kingdom of Mercy, Where the fountains of charity flow without guile — Where law-detained captives are treated with kindness, And penitence' hand is received with a smile. Chorus— The kingdom, etc. The kingdom of God is a kingdom of Justice, Where Kights are secured to the great and the small— Where judicial decisions are wise and impartial — Where truth is the sceptre, extended to all. Chorus— The kingdom, etc. The kingdom of God is a kingdom of Valor— The warriors of Israel are valiant and brave: They quail not in war, and they shrink not in danger — O'er them and their Temples, bright banners will wave. Chorus — The kingdom, etc. The kingdom of God is a kingdom of Conquest, To which every knee of all nations must bow; For the law of the Lord will go forth from Mount Zion— His word will go forth from Jerusalem too. Chorus— The kingdom, etc. The kingdom of God holds the keys of Salvation For life that is now, and the lives yet to be; With the gifts and the powers of Eternal Progression Of kingdoms in kingdoms, eternally free. Chorus— The kingdom, etc. POEMS. 99 THE FOUNTAIN AND STREAMS OF LIFE. Pure is life's fountain— pure the Eternal Source From whence the streamlets take their varied course- Pure and unsullied as the burning zone, That with bright glory, belts Jehovah's throne. From that pure fountain, endless currents flow; From world to world; meandering down they go To earth, where sin diffuses pois'nous breath, And through life's channels, plants the seeds of death. God is the fountain. — He th' eternal mart — The ocean-spring from which all life-rills start; Pure as His Spirit, life, from Him came forth, Until, by man, corrupted on the earth. Little by little, sin and empire gain'd, Until disorder, vice and folly reign'd; • And, fill'd with vile degeneration's stuff, Life and its issues are impure enough. Nought but Omnipotence' almighty force Could stay the ebbing current in its course: 'Twas sin's dark tide that ebb'd life's currents low; The Priesthood comes — henceforth the tides must flow. 100 POEMS. Regeneration now is on the track, To cleanse the streams of life, and bring them back: The proper channel gain'd — however slow, Life now is moving in an upward flow. Howe'er impure the streams of life may be, The Priesthood's channel tends to purity, Till, through the resurrection, pure and broad Life's mighty rivers skirt the throne of God. I AM THY CHILD. Our God, our Father and our Friend — God of Eternity; To Thine abode, my thoughts ascend— My spirit pants for Thee. I am Thy child and lawful heir To all that's good and great; Jointly, with Jesus Christ, to share Thy rich, immense estate. I am Thy child, and what, to me, Is all the glittering show Of this world's transient royalty, Beset with care and woe? POEMS. 101 I am Thy child, and Thou hast given A law of purity, By which I'll wend my way to heaven, And dwell again with Thee. To think — to feel — to know I'm Thine, Through every fibre thrills; And with a glow of life divine, Each pulse of nature fills. To Thee belongs the sweetest praise Expressed by human tongue — To Thee, the most exalted lays, By pure immortals sung. I am Thy child: let me discern Thy footsteps as they move: Help me, through faithfulness, to earn A fulness of Thy love. MAN CAPABLE OF HIGHER DEVELOPMENTS. Man's tide of existence is fearfully chang'd — From God, and from nature, how widely estrang'd! Vice, dandled by custom, mocks nature's designs, And existence decreases where virtue declines. 102 POEMS. We wake into being — How helpless at birth! How short, at the longest, our visit on earth! Too short to develop (we merely begin) The germ of the Deity, planted within. As a father transmits from the father to son, So God, our Creator, our Father has done: There's no attribute, God in his glorified form, Possesses, but man, too, inherits the germ. Though frail and imperfect, unlearn'd and unwise, We're endowed with capacities needful to rise From our embryo state, onward, upward— at leugth, To a fulness of knowledge— of wisdom and strength. Man becomes his own agent, with freedom to choose, With pow'r to accept and with pow'r to refuse; With a future before him, the sequel of life, To which this is a preface with consequence rife. He may learn how to strengthen this life's feeble chain, And redeem the longevity man should obtain — Develop capacity, greatness and worth, By improving himself and improving the earth. He should squander no talent, no health and no time; All, all is important— age, manhood and prime: As we sow we shall reap — what we earn we'll receive — We'll be judged by our works, not by what we believe. We now lay the foundations for what we shall be, For life's current extends to Eternity's sea; POEMS. 103 Whatever ennobles, debases, refines, Around our hereafter, an impress entwines. We're the offspring of God: Shall we stoop to degrade The form which at first in His image was made? To honor our beings and callings, while here, Secures an admission to life's higher sphere. In the likeness of Deity, gracefully formed, With His own noble attributes, richly adorned; For a grand immortality, man is designed- Perfected in body— perfected in mind. LIFE'S COMPOUNDS. Our life abounds with mingled light and shade — The good and evil mix in ev'ry grade; Full oft the bitter and the sweet combine, And prickly thorns, with fragrant roses twine — Thistles commingle oft with lovely flowers, And coiling serpents bask in pleasure's bowers. The Saints of God, themselves to prove, And on the earth prepare, To enter royal courts above, And dwell in glory there, 104 POEMS. Must both the light and darkness view — Sunshine and tempest meet: Must taste the good and evil too— The bitter and the sweet. It matters not what ills we may surmount, If we but turn them all to good account: If we draw honey like the "Deseret" From all the pois'nous things our paths beset. And if we pattern from the bee, We'll treasure for Eternity, Some real good — some precious sweet From everv circumstance we meet. Whate'er of the substance of earth we lay by, Like the dew of the morning, is subject to fly: Be it little or much, what experience we gain, Let us go where we will we are sure to retain. If kings and queens we ever rise to be, Thro'outthe changes of Eternity, 'Tis well for us, while here in time to learn To know ourselves, and others to discern. To study the dealings and ways of the Lord In each passing occurrence of life, To each student, will yield a prolific reward, With wisdom's best precedents, rife. See that lean miser, whose sparse, meagre board Weeps with starvation o'er his glitt'ring hoard; His soul absorb 'd, his future gains to plan, Holds no kind fellowship for fellow man— POEMS. 105 His wither'd heart, unstamp'd in friendship's mould, Bears no affinity to aught but gold. At length the call is issued from on high — In spite of all his riches, he must die; Naked, and poor as Job — of all bereft — All the hard earnings of his life are left; Having bestow'd no treasures on his mind, He goes and leaves his wealth — his all, behind, Except to know that he has played the fool; And now, the ignoramus goes to school. See the vain butterfly that courted show — Fluttering and dazzling here awhile below: Death came — it metamorphos'd her — she's there — And needs a microscope to show us where. What is life's gaudy splendor — its pride and its show? They are just like the bubbles that burst as they go: And what are the honors the world applauds high? Things ready to perish — they live but to die. If substantial happiness we would win, Not to come and to go, as the tide; We must plant the principle deep within, And cherish'd the gem will abide. And God has kindly given to us a law, By which we may sweet consolation draw, From scenes of sadnes, sorrow and distress— From all the ills, which heart and life oppress. The right to acknowledge His own kind hand, In all that transpires on earth — This, this unto those who can understand, Is a boon of celestial worth. 106 POEMS. The church below, Satan has sought To overthrow — To bring to nought; But ev'ry evil purpose has been foiled — Aggressions, on aggressors, have recoiled. God over-rules Malice and hate; Foes are but tools To make us great; All who, mid fog and thunder, will be wise, O'er every billow, will victorious rise. Fear and alarm May spread abroad — Nothing will harm The Saints of God. Those who are Saints of God in very deed, Will find a present help in time of need. Our eye to the mark, we must steadily keep, As the waves of change roll by; Like a well steer' d ship on the mighty deep, When the winds and seas beat high. With God, Himself, at the helm, to steer— With His servants side by side; The storm and the billows, we need not fear, For the ship will safely ride. On, onward, in spite of the breakers ahead, With the banner of life unfurl 'd— With all truth for our motto, with fearless tread, We'll march at the head of the world. POEMS. 107 WHOM I PITY. I pity those who know no happiness, But what the transient things of earth produce : Whose servile minds, by close affinity, Seem bound to the low sod on which they tread: And whose unstable feelings, like the waves Of ocean; rise and fall, and ebb and flow, With every up and down — with ev'ry change Of circumstance. — Whose present weal is the Grand fulcrum, round which all their hopes and fears Are moving unremittingly.— Whose joys And sorrows may be measured by their loss And gain of worldly substance; while their hearts, So narrowly drawn up, and press'd into The stinted centers of their narrow spheres; Seem like the withered buds of Spring, too soon Put forth, and smitten by th' untimely frost. I've wept o'er human suff'ring, when I've heard My fellow creatures groan beneath the weight Of bodily disease — when nature sank Exhausted — when e'en life itself became A load that press'd too heavily upon The weak, disorder'd organs of the frame. Such evils claim our sympathy; yet bear No parallel to those disorders of 108 POEMS. The human mind, which circumscribe to earth, The sphere of human intellect: when thought, Transfix'd to nether objects, never soars Beyond the limits of the present life. I've seen the young, with noble pow'rs of mind, That should have reach'd to heav'n; low stooping down In search of some forbidden key, t' unlock The glitt'ring heaps that Mammon's coffers hold. O yes, and I have seen the aged ones, Upon whose heads the silver coronets, With plain inscriptions, told their lengthen'd years Were hov'ring o'er the margin of the grave; Let go their hold of future blessedness, To lay their trembling grasp more firmly on The fleeting treasures of departing time. If tears could ought avail — could tears prevent Such strange perversions of the gifts bestow'd; I would exclaim, *like one of ancient time, " Oh, that my head were waters, and my eyes A fountain:" and I'd weep — yes, I would weep. POEMS. 109 THE YEAR 1871 The year is stepping out, regardless of My long, long distance from my "Mountain Home." It leaves me in Italia's " sunny clime," Where verdant foliage, gentle breezes kiss, And balmy zephyrs fan the evening tide. The year now passing out, has, in its course In liberal portions, meted out to me, The wide extremes of deep bereavement,* and Munificence in richly flowing streams, Which I acknowledge freely, ere we part. All grateful reminiscences, the old, Expiring year inscribes indelibly On mem'ry's sacred tablet, richly wreathed With choice mementos of the good produced — Of vict'ries, truth and justice have achieved — Improvement's progress in the march of mind, And every aid to poor humanity ; While its successor treads upon its heels. Good bye, old year. We both are moving on: You, to the cloister of the mighty Past, To join it to the future, yet unborn; I, to the far-famed land of Palestine, * Referring to the death of my beloved sister. 110 POEMS. Which has a history of the past, that bears With a momentous and eternal weight, Of destiny to all of human kind, Upon the future, which the passing years, With hurried tread, ere long will introduce With bold, magnificent developments. I go to place my feet upon the land Where once the Prince of Peace, the Son of God Was born — where once He lived and walked and preached, And prayed, admonished, taught, rebuked and blest; And then, to answer Justice's great demand, And seal his mission of Eternal Love, Upon the cross poured out his precious blood- Arose to life, triumphant o'er the tombj And after being seen and heard and felt, Ascended up to heav'n; and, as He went, Those who stood looking, heard an angel say, " Ye men of Gallilee, why stand ye here Gazing to heaven f The selfsame Jesus, whom Ye see ascending, in like manner, will Again descend,'''' Each year that passes on, Clips from the thread of time, a portion of Its intervening length, and hurries up The coming great and grand fulfilment of The strange prediction— strange, and true as strange. That most momentous period for the great Event, is fast approximating, and POEMS. Ill The moving of the waters now, amidst The nations of the earth, like deepest shades Of pencil drawings, seems foreshadowing The world's great crisis. Human policies Grow tremulous; while human governments, With tender care, are fondly fostering, And feeding with their life's best nourishment, The seeds of their own dissolution. France Is poising on a pivot. England rests On her broad pedestal, but resting, moves With vaccillating tendencies. The famed Italia, stands in leaning posture from The Papal Chair to King Emanuel; While Russia, beckoning to Austria — To Germany, or whosoever will, Solicits aid to lift the balances Of power, now lying just beyond her reach. The wires of destiny are working on, To consummate eternal purposes, And bring results of change, that must precede " The second coming of the Son of Man, When, unto Him, " whose right it is to reign," All human powers and governments will bow. Milan, Italy, Jan. 1, 1873. 112 POEMS. FLORENCE. Beneath high, villa-dotted hills, That in succession rise Like rich, gemmed parapets around, The lovely Florence lies. The Arno, broad and gentle stream, That flows meandering through, Divides, though in unequal parts, The city plat, in two. I've seen its princely palaces Where wealth and ease reside- Where independence fills her sails With luxury and pride. I see you, Florence, all the while, So beautiful and gay, I ask, Is this your common dress, Or, this your holiday? Be wise: and while their golden showers The bounteous heav'ns distil; Avoid debasing luxury — Prolific source of ill. POEMS. 113 The crown of peace is on your head- Its wreath around your brow; The royal banner newly spread, Waves proudly o'er you now. Florence, Italy, Jan. 10, 1873. AT THE SEA OF GALILEE, I have stood on the shore of the beautiful sea, The renowned and immortalized Galilee, When t'was wrapp'd in repose, at eventide Like a royal queen in her conscious pride. No sound was astir — not a murmuring wave — Not a motion was seen, but the tremulous lave, A gentle heave of the water's crest- As the infant breathes on a mother's breast. I thought of the present — the past: it seemed That the silent Sea, with instruction teem'd; For often, indeed, the heart can hear What never, in sound has approached the ear. Full oft has silence been richly fraught .With treasures of wisdom, and stores of thought, With sacred, heavenly whisperings, too, That are sweeter than roses, and honey dew. 114 POEMS. There's a depth in the soul, that's beyond the reach Of all earthly sound — of all human speech, A fiber too sacred and pure, to chime With the cold, dull music of Earth and Time. 'Tis the heart's receptacle, nought can supply, But the streams that flow from the fount on high. An instinct divine, of immortal worth, An inherited gift, through primeval birth. Agaii^ when the shades of night, were gone, In the clear, bright rays of the morning dawn, I walked on the bank of this selfsame Sea, Where once, our Redeemer was wont to be. Where, "Lord save, or I perish, "was Peter's prayer, Befitting the weak and the faithless elsewhere. And here while admiring this Scriptural Sea, Th' bold vista of Time, brought th' past up to me; Embos'd with events when the Prince of Life, Endured this world's hatred — its envy and strife; When, in Him, the Omnipotent was revealed, And, by Him, the wide breach of the law, was healed. The gates, He unbarred, and led the way, Through the shadow of death, to the courts of day: And "led captivity captive," when "He ascended on high, and gave gifts unto men." Damascus, Syria, March 17, 1873. POEMS. 115 CHANGE. 'Tis the evening of Time, and it is not strange That change should tread on the heels of Change. Upheaving events, like a swelling surge, Are moving onward to Time's last verge; And vortex-like, in their foaming haste, Will swallow the nations or lay them waste. * $ #■ * #■ * * The present transit across the plains, Compared with the early " Mormon trains." Is much like the antelope's fleety race Compared with the terrapin's burden'd pace. $ $ * •:•:- -*- -X- vie They thrust us out — we were sent adrift In untrodden wilds to make a shift: Our pioneer men were brave and bold — They trusted in God like the saints of old — Though slow their progress, their foot-prints tell, They fill'd their mission, and fill'd it well. No heart was faint and no hand was slack, As they felt out the way and mark'd the track. 'Twas said of them (it is verily true,) They did what no other men could do. But change has swept o'er their path since then, And smothered the track of the pioneer men, Who " made the bridges and killed the snakes," As they wended their way to the mountain lakes. ,-..--■ 116 tOEMS, In the pathless desert's unhealing heart, We awoke a pulse and we formed a mart: We discover'd gold, but we valued more The produce of soil, than the shining ore: We tilled the earth and produc'd the bread On which the stranger has freely fed; For we were not long in our wild redoubt, Ere multitudes follow'd where we led out. As Change march 'd on, the electric wire, With its lightning pulse and its heart of fire, Mov'd on in our wake successfully and Unites us again with our father land. With lightning speed — with its pow'r compress'd, We can speak to the East — we can speak to the West; And then, at our leisure, with social ease, Can chat with the settlements when we please. 'Tis the evening of Time and results will prove That Change with a hasty step should move. The ungodly nations of every land, That wait his coming may fear his hand. While Change is filling the world with fear, He comes with a smiling visage here; With a noble brow and a look of pride, He walks in our midst with a haughty stride. Electric speed is now all the rage— 'Tis truly a fast and racy age. The "iron horse" with its fieiy gear, With a mighty rush is now coming here. To clip time and distance, the rail and wire, With artistic effort and skill, conspire; POEMS. 117 And Change is combining a powerful team Of the lightning flash and the puffing steam, Which, boldly harness'd and train'd to chime, Ignore all distance and laugh at time. The President's Message, a wreath of gold, Was spread on our tables a few hours old. The eastern cities their hats may doff— The " Mormons" are now but a few days off, And every day are still drawing near, As the " iron horse" is approaching here. Let the Saints awake — let the world prepare For coming events: There's no time to spare: 'Tis the evening of Time, and the hours are few, And change has very much yet to do. Salt Lake City, 1869. THE SHIP. The ship was launched: It was forced to ride O'er the surges that lined the shore: It battled hard with the wind and tide, While the breakers heaved up before. 118 POEMS. The ship is on the ocean With its crew, and freight of souls — With th' Priesthood's unerring compass Which points to the upper poles. Hold fast to the ship, for the waves run high, And a storm is gathering in the sky: Hold fast to the Ship— keep your eye ahead Huge sharks loom up from the ocean's bed: Around th' Ship's prow and th' mizzen mast, The croaking gulls are collecting fast; But th' mighty Captain to port has gone, And the Ship in his wake is moving on. Hold on to the Ship, for often a boat, With a pirate's crew, alongside will float, To allure the unwary ones away, Like a wreck, to float on th' wind-beaten spray. God, himself is the Mariner: Who should fear? The Ship will each maelstrom and iceberg clear: It never has stranded — it never will strand. Tho' bombarded by sea and bombarded by land. There's no cabin passage on Zion's ship: It was never designed for a pleasure trip; But for expeditions of life-long work, With no badges of honor for them that shirk. There is work on board, of every kind — There's work for the body and work for the mind- For the will, the sinews, the head and the heart; And the duty of each is to bear a part: POEMS. 119 Whatever the labor, though light or hard, There's a strict, proportionate, just reward. 'Tis a voyage of discipline formed to prove And prepare the good, for a life of love; For the Ship bears a heavenly embassy, To provide for the world's great Jubilee. Life's billows are foaming with vice and crime, And. this is the Lord's last fishing time. The fruition of joy and triumph will be On the heav'n-ward side of this time-bound sea. The waters are deep and the ocean wide, But the harbor is safe on the other side; Pure life with the curse removed, crowns the shore, With Eternity's fulness forevermore. MY COUNTRY.-A LAMENTATION. Columbia, my country! The land of my birth and the boast of my youthful pride! My love for thee, mingled with the warm pulses of my childhood — it was inherited from my noble ances- tors who periled their lives and bravely fought for thy independence — it grew with my growth as a legiti- mate portion of my nature. 120 POEMS. Thou hast been as a beacon of light to other nations — a palladium of liberty and an asylum for the oppressed. Then thy broad bosom, warmed with compassion for the homeless — thou didst open wide thy heart to shelter persecuted outcasts from distant lands. Thou didst choose wise men for statesmen — men with souls, who were not greedy after selfish gain, but were true to thy interests, and held thy honor dearer than their life. With them, thou didst establish a government on the grand platform of civil and religious liberty, guaran- teeing equal rights; and to procure its perpetuity, thou didst frame and bequeath a glorious and sacred Consti- tution, which was prompted by the inspiration of the Most High. Thy standard was emblazoned with the insignia of peace; and on its lofty spire which towered amid the skies, waved the glorious banner of freedom, which was unsoiledby the hand of oppression, and unstained with the blood of innocence. Then, thy courts and seats of justice, and thy congress halls were receptacles of trust and confidence. Union and happiness prevaded thy interior, and a crown of glory encircled thy brow; thy name was held in honor abroad: proud and haughty nations gazed with admiration at thy prosperity; they bowed respect- fully to the noble magnanimity of thy character, and marveled at the harmonious workings of thine institu- tions. , Such thou wert as I remember thee; and then my POEMS. 121 young heart swelled with joyous pride that I was an American citizen. But alas! alas! a great change has come over thee: and now, with subdued pride, I am forced to exclaim : " How is the mighty fallen!" Where is thy Washington — thy Jefferson and thine Adams of former years? Where now the respect and loyality with which they adhered to, and honored the glorious Constitution? When two of thy noblest sons — those whom God had raised up to be benefactors of the age, were assassinated in Carthage jail; thou didst, not only forfeit thine own plighted faith to them, and complacently fold thy hands in silent sanction, but thou didst throw thy mantle of protection around the foul perpetrators of the horrid deed. Alas! for thee, my Country! Inconsistency is glaring in thine acts — with one hand thou dost extend liberty, and proffer protection to the negro in the South; while, with the other thou dost seize, and wrest from a por- tion of thy most loyal subjects who, after having been thrust from thy presence, have opened for thee a path in the desert; the dearest privileges and the most sacred rights conferred by the Goddess of Liberty. There is no cloak for thy shame: The stain of inno- cent blood is on thy armorial escutcheon — degeneracy is visibly depicted in thy countenance — rottenness is in thy bones — thy joints tremble by reason of weak- ness, and thou art terribly diseased in thine inward parts. Thou hast even acknowledged thine own imbecility; 12 122 POEMS. for when a portion of thine own children who had been cruelly persecuted and smitten, cried unto thee for help — humbly claiming thy parental protection, thou didst coldly and deliberately say to them, "Your cause is ' just , but lean do nothing for you.''1 Tell it not in Europe — publish it not on the continent of Asia, lest the monarchs of the world laugh, and the subjects of despots have thee in derision. And yet, thou art not wholly fallen: To thine honor be it spoken: thou hast a few, who, like the Daniel of old, boldly dare to stand up in defense of justice, and oppose the annihilation of peace and citizenship; and their names will be registered in the archives of the just. My Country, O, my Country! my heart bleeds for thee — I mourn thy corruption and degradation — thy glory has departed — thy fame is extinguished — thy peace and honor, swindled; and "the dear old flag" which once floated in glorious majesty, is now slowly and solemnly undulating at half "mast, as a requiem of thy departed liberty, which thou hast sacrificed on the shrine of political emolument. And now, mark it— write it with an iron pen — en- grave it indelibly in the rocks — a day of retribution awaits thee. Think not thou can'st measure arms with the Almighty — think not thy strength sufficient to cope with Omnipotence. September, 1870, POEMS. 123 THE FATHERS-WOULDFT THEY BE ASTONISHED? Could our country's noble sages, Who have gone to reap their wages, Reap rewards for their well doing, When on earth they were pursuing This great nation's peace and honor In erecting Freedom's banner; Could they get one full expression Of our Congress' present session — Could they take one single peep in, They would surely fall to weeping. They would weep and blush and wonder At the noisy wind and thunder — At the boisterous, wrathy prattle — At the steam and tittle tattle — At the ghosts with human faces, Filling honorable places. Could our Washington and Adams, Jefferson and other sages, Look upon the present scenery, With its underwire machinery — All the multiform dissentions Of the multiplied conventions; 124 POEMS. Some intent on office seeking — Some intent on money eking — All mix'd up in twists and jangles, All absorb'd in wordy wrangles. Could they take one squint at Utah, See the army made a cat's paw Just to drain the nation's coffers, To appease the scoundrels' offers- Just to fatten speculators, Base, blood-thirsty instigators, Who blew hard to raise a bubble — Who created all the trouble — See the " Mormons" scourg'd like minions For their worship and opinions; Just one glance would make them wonder If the nation had gone under, And our country's boasted White House Metamorphos'd to a light-house, A tall beacon, just to show their Once "fam'd liberty" is nowhere — That the freedom of men's conscience, Guaranteed to us, is nonsense. If they look for " Rights" as equaJ, As they hop'd for in the sequel Of their hardships and privations — Of their wise deliberations, When the government they founded — When the trump of peace they sounded; They would think their labors wasted And the fruits thereof, untasted — POEMS. 125 That altho' their deeds are boasted, And their names on way-marks posted; They are virtually forgotten, And the Constitution rotten. ADDRESS. Written for the 24th of July, 1871, on the occasion of a grand Celebration, held in Or/den City (in which many citizens of Salt Lake City participated, Presi- dent D. H. Wells being Orator of the day), in com- memoration of the arrival of the Pioneers in Salt Lake Valley \ on the 24th of July, 1847. [Read by Col. D. McKenzie.] Latter-Day Saint Ladies of Utah: The day we celebrate is a very important one. Im- portant not only to the Latter-day Saints, as a people, but also highly important to all the nations of the earth. The arrival of the Pioneers in these valleys, is an event which history will repeat with emphasis to all succeeding generations. It formed the starting point — the commencement of a delightful oasis in the desert wilds of North America — of establishing a midway set- tlement between Eastern and western civilization, a 126 POEMS. connecting overland link, between the rich agricultural products of the Atlantic and the undeveloped mineral treasures of the Pacific. Above all, and of consequence of far greater magnitude, it was securing a foothold for the establishment of the Kingdom of God — a gov- ernment of peace — a home for the exiled Saints, and for the oppressed of all nations — a reservoir of freedom and religious toleration, where the glorious flag of liberty now waves triumphantly; and where the sacred Constitution which our noble forefathers were instru- mental in forming under the inspiration of the Al- mighty, shall be cleansed from every stain cast upon it by degenerate Executives, and be preserved inviolate. This in fulfillment of a prediction by the prophet Joseph Smith. Long before political faction had reared its hydra-head in the midst of our Republican Government — long before the intrigues of selfish, dis- loyal, unscrupulous, speculating, peace-destroying, office-seeking demagogues had attained to their present hideous proportions, I heard the prophet say, "The time will come when the Government of these United States will be so nearly overthrown through its own corruption, that the Constitution will hang, as it were, by a single hair, and the Latter-Day Saints — the Elders of Israel — will step forward to its rescue and save it." • Ladies, please allow me to address you by the more endearing appellation of sisters. We have the privi- lege of uniting with our brethren in twining a garland with which to decorate the stately brow of this auspici- ous day. Why should we not? What interests have we that are not in common with theirs, and what have POEMS. 127 they that are disconnected with ours? We know of none, and we feel assured that they have no more interests involved in the settlement of these valleys than ourselves. Who is better qualified to appreciate the blessings of peace' than woman? And where on earth is woman so highly privileged as associated with the Saints in Utah, and where else, on earth, is female virtue held so sacred, and where so bravely defended? Facts answer, no where! It is to the Gospel of Jesus Christ that we are indebted for the blessings we enjoy; and how lamentable it is to see women of the world, who, ostensibly aiming to im- prove society, ignore its divinity and trifle with its sacred truths! Reforms established on such a basis, would, if successful, dissolve every tie and obliterafe all that is dear to the heart of a virtuous, high-aiming woman. The Gospel in its mutilated forms, as now held by the religious sects of the day, has done much towards the elevation of woman; and what will it not do, when fully illustrated in its purity and power, as it was in- troduced by its great Founder, and as it has been again restored in our day? We should bear in mind that, as yet, its practice is but imperfectly developed. Although perfect principles may be readily enunciated, it is a slow process, and one that requires time, for a people with minds filled with all the false traditions of the age, and with habits commingling the most extreme oppo- sites, to attain to perfection in practice. But this is an event which, although it may be far in the distance, is 128 POEMS. surely before us, for we know we have the true start- ing point. With hearts overflowing with gratitude to God for the blessings of this day, and for the bright prospect of the future before us, let us take a retrospective view, and inquire if we were not in concert with our brethren, and with them instrumental in the hand of God, in bringing about the interesting event we are now celebrating. Who can calculate the worth of cheerful submission to privation — the patient endurance of hardships — the heroic fortitude in surmounting difficulties which our sisters mani- fested ,and how much weight they had in encourag- ing our brethren when under trying circumstances? Who can tell how much influence the unyielding faith and fervent prayers of the mothers, wives and sisters had with Him " who hears the young ravens when they cry," in strengthening the brave hearts and hands of the noble Pioneers who opened up a path in the trackless desert? Let us take a glance of reminiscence at the time when, after our expulsion from Nauvoo, and while wending our weary way as outcasts, the United States Government made the most unreasonable and unpre- cedented requisition known in the annals of history, on our traveling camps, by demanding 500 of our most efficient men— ordering them to march immediately to Mexico, of which this Territory was then the north-east- ern part, to assist in the acquisition of territory, and to establish there that dishonored flag, from under the protection of which, we had recently been forced to poems. L29 fly. Some of those noble women yet live, while others have gone to reap the reward of their labors; who, while their husbands, sons and brothers were perform- ing military service and exposing their lives in Mexico, forced by cruel necessity, took the position of teamsters and drove to the mountains. With many similar mat- ter of fact proofs which might be enumerated, who can doubt that " Mormon women" are equal to any and all emergencies? The great questions relative to woman's sphere, etc., which are making some stir in the world abroad, have no influence with us. While we realize that we are called to be co-workers with our brethren in the great work of the last days, we realize that we have no occasion to clamor about equality, or to battle for supremacy. We understand our true position— God has defined the sphere of woman wherever His Priest- hood is acknowledged; and although we are not at present living up to all our privileges, and fulfilling all the duties that belong to our sex, the field is open before us, and we are urged to move forward as fast as we can develop and apply our own capabilities. But we never shall be called to officiate in unwomanly positions. Although invested with the right of suffrage, we shall never have occasion to vote for lady legis- lators or for lady congressmen, from the fact that the kingdom of God, of which we are citizens, will never be deficient in a supply of good and wise men to fill governmental positions, and of brave men for warriors. How very different our position from that of our sisters in the world at large, and how widely different our feelings and prospects from that class known as 130 POEMS. "strong-minded," who are strenuously and unflinch- ingly advocating "woman's rights," and some of them, at least, claiming "woman's sovereignity" and vainly flattering themselves with the idea that with ingress to the ballot box and access to financial offices, they shall accomplish the elevation of woman-kind. They seem utterly blind and oblivious to an element incorporated with their platform, which, in its nature, is calculated to sap the foundation of all on earth that can impart happiness and stability to the domestic and social circles. We are well aware that society needs purifying, but for them to think of bettering its condition by thejcourse and measures they are applying is like the blind lead- ing the blind. With all their efforts to remove the curse Matters are yearly growing worse and worse: They can as well unlock without a key, As change the the tide of man's degen'racy, Without the Holy Priesthood — 'tis at most Like reck'ning bills in absence of the host. Not that we are opposed to woman suffrage. Cer- tainly Congress cannot be actiug consistently with itself to withold suffrage from woman after having con- ferred it on the negro, the recent subject of abject slavery. But to think of a war of sexes which the woman's rights movement would inevitably inaugu- rate, entailing domestic feuds and contentions for supre- macy, with a corresponding " easy virtue" and dissolu- tion of the marriage tie, creates an involuntary shud- POEMS. 131 der! "Order is heaven's first law," and it is utterly impossible for order to exist without organization, and no organization can be effected without gradation. Our standard is as far above theirs, as the pattern of heavenly things is above the earthly. We have already attained to an elevation in nobility and purity of life, which they can neither reach nor comprehend, and yet they call us " degraded." We cannot descend to their stand- ard; we have a high destiny to fill. It is for us to set the world an examjDle of the highest and most perfect types of womanhood. Mothers and sisters have great influence in moulding the characters of the coming men, either for good or evD . All the energies of woman's soul should be brought into exercise in the important work of cultivating, edu- cating and refining the rising generation. Example is more effectual than precept — both are requisite. In this direction woman has not only acknowledged "rights," but momentous duties, and such as require all the strength of mind and firmness of purpose as have culminated in the epithet, "strong-minded." I cannot think that woman was ever endowed with too much strength of mind, if properly directed — it is the perversion of its uses, and misapplication of abilities which have occasioned the odium. It is impossible for either men or women to possess too much knowl- edge, or.be endowed with too much capability, Jprovided they are applied to legitimate purposes. Would any sensible man take pride in announcing that his wife, sister or daughter was weak-minded, silly and effemi- nate? 132 POEMS. According to history, most of the men who have be- come illustrious as benefactors of mankind, were sons of wise, noble and intelligent mothers. President Young says " woman is the mainspring and the way- mark of society." It was justly remarked, "show me the women of a nation, and I will describe the character of that nation." Admitting so much for woman's in- fluence, what care should be taken in the cultivation of the daughters of Zion as the future mothers of a mighty generation! They should be taught to fix their stand- ard of character as far above the level of those of the outside world as is the altitude they inhabit. They should early establish a firmness of integrity surpass- ing the durability of the impregnable mountains which surround us. Wisely instructed, and with proper habits of thought and reflection, they would desj)ise to be seen aping the foolish, extravagant and disgusting fashions of the godless gentile world. They would scorn to imitate the strange disfiguring of the physical structure which jeopardizes health. A stylish, fashion- able lady of the present day, presents more the appear- ance of a beast of burden, a camel or dromedary heavily laden, than the elegant, dignified, graceful form in which God created woman. Dress is admitted to be an index to the mind. Good taste is much better exhibited in a plain costume than in an extravagant mass of superfluities. May such high and holy aspirations be kindled in the pure virgin hearts of our young ladies, as will so elevate their thoughts and feelings as to lift them far above the contaminating influences of degenerate civil i- poems. 133 zation. May the young sons of Zion be proof against the deleterious habits which vitiate the taste and under- mine the structure of physical strength and perfec- tion— may they become the unwavering champions of truth, freedom and justice, and stand as mighty bul- warks against the aggressions of intolerance and oppression; and may the young daughters of Zion, noble, dignified, loving and graceful— like " polished stones," — become crowns of excellence and beauty, prepared hereafter to associate with angels and the highest intelligences of the upper world. - GOOD SOCIETY. Written for, and read before an Assembly of the Poly- sophical Association, Salt Lake City, How sweet is the association of hearts united by the endearing ties of reciprocated friendship? How holy, and how heavenly the communion of those whose minds are enlightened by the spirit of revelation — whose trust is in the promises of the Most High— who are guided by his Priesthood upon the earth, and whose anticipations reach beyond the vail which hides from our view, a glorious immortality? 134 POEMS. What is more desirable to noble, intelligent beings, and what object can be more worthy of our pursuit, than good society? Whether the desire was inherited, or whether it was the result of high-toned parental instruction, I cannot say; but good society has been my undeviating aim, and for which I have endeavored to render myself worthy, ever since my earliest childhood: And now my heart overflows with love and gratitude to my heavenly Father, that I am numbered with his chosen Israel, and have the inestimable privilege of being associated with the Latter-day Samts. How happy are those who are permitted to unite to- gether, and through the perfect medium of the Spirit of God, not only hold sweet communion with one an- other, but through union of faith and feeling, have power to draw down precious draughts of consolation and intelligence, from the fountain above? If such, the small foretastes which occasionally refresh the rugged pathway of life, and which truly seem as cool- ing streams to the thirsty traveler, and as clusters of grapes to the weary, famishing pilgrim; what will be the blessed fruition, when those who abide the ordeal of earthly affliction, and become sanctified through the truth; will mingle with those exalted beings whose purity, and brightness of glory, far exceed the powers of our weak, mortal vision? And will it ever be possible for us, the frail, degener- ate children of Adam, to arrive at the reality of these high hopes? At the ultimatum of these glorious anti- cipations? POEMS. 135 He, whose spirit has awakened in our bosoms, the supernal, elevating and soul-enlivening expectation of a perfect state of society hereafter; has also furnished us with means necessary for the attainment. He has implanted in our organizations, the germ of mental, moral, and physical faculties capable of expansion, and possessing the rudiments of eternal progression. He has revealed Keys and Ordinances of the everlast- ing Priesthood, which will qualify all those who re- ceive and respect them, for admission into the upper courts of eternity — into the assemblies of the just — for a perfection and fulness of those enjoyments of which we partake in small, yet precious effusions here in our social assemblies, where the atmosphere is rife with love, union, and confidence — where all is harmony and peace. Admitting the very current remark, that the Saints are all in school; and considering the present state of existence as a kind of outer porch, where we are taking lessons preparatory to an entrance within the vail — into the vestry which opens into the celestial Halls of eternity; I have thought that a very important lesson of our present education is the correct estimate or a true comparative valuation of whatever pertains to human life. Everything on earth has been perverted; and those who gather to Zion from different countries, have each a different standard by which to determine the relative importance and worth of whatever comes within the compass of our supervision. In Zion— in the midst of the Saints of God — under 136 POEMS. the direction and in the presence of those who hold the keys of knowledge; we might make ourselves appear very ridiculous by adhering to the estimates and com- putations of the adulterated erudition, practice, and etiquette of Babylon. How muchsoever of good we may have acquired, it remains for the voice of Inspira- tion, through the medium which God has appointed, to determine what is and what is not good. c This in- struction, I consider one grand item, to obtain which, we have been gathered from the midst of the nations: And in Zion, we have always before us, more or less examples of those who, through an inflexible tenacity for former education and gentile notions and customs, are left far in the rear of such as in humility take the position of students, and in all things are ready and willing to be taught. An ancient wise man observed, "that which is highly esteemed among men, is foolishness with God;" and I believe that nearly all of the mental, and not a small portion of the physical suffering of the present state, is consequent on, or rather the production of a false and disordered estimate of things with which we have to do and to which we are subject. The Spirit of God is the spirit of light— the spirit of intelligence, and when we are filled with it, as every faithful Saint has been at times, all the ten thousand annoyances and per- plexities— all the discomfitures of life disappear, like the shades of night before the bright rays of the rising sun. When we act consistently with ourselves, we make that the object of our most ardent pursuit, to which we POEMS. 137 attach the greatest consequence; and if our standards of valuation are not in accordance with the prices-cur- rent in the upper market, we not only squander the ability which God has given to lay up treasures for eternity, and make a wasteful sacrifice of the time al- lotted for the acquisition of what is recognized as genuine by the true Mint; but we court around us those delusive spirits of darkness which are ever seek- ing to obtain access in order to decoy. And what is still worse, in the attain ment of that which is entirely useless, or far inferior to the worth of time and anxiety bestowed, we sacrifice the peace of mind, by which we disqualify ourselves to enjoy the desired object, were its possession really productive of enjoyment, which is not the case, in nine instances out of ten. In order to arise in the scale of being, that we may mingle in the associations of the high and holy ones who dwell in the mansions of light, we are to become as little children, and in all things be instructed by the Holy Priesthood, which holds in possession the rules and scales x of weights and measures, by which all things will have their value determined, not only for Time and Eternity, but for all the successions of Eter- nities. What have the order, fashion, and traditions of this world — what have the opinions and practices of the gentiles, the enemies of truth, to do with the pre- parations we are making for the presence and the re- ception of angels and those higher intelligences who, we are instructed, will ere long manifest themselves to such as are prepared to receive them? Just nothing at all. And when we can fully realize it, we shall spare 13 138 POEMS. ourselves all the mortification of feeling attendant on the amalgamation of light and darkness — the know- ledge of God and the spurious erudition of Babylon: And as we increase in the wisdom of God — become acquainted with, and act in accordance to his estimates in all things; much, and perhaps all that previously caused us grief and anxiety, will diminish in conse- quence— sink into insignificance, and really prove to be nothing more than the rattle which amuses the rest- less child. Our purpose— our aim is the favor of God — the society of the good; and that our aim may be well directed, it is necessary for us to study our heavenly Father's laws of appreciation, that what we learn, both from observation and experience, may have a qualify- ing tendency, whereby our present associations may be perpetuated; and that in the path of perfection, we may walk, steadily upward, communing with the spirits of the Just, until we enter the holy assemblies of the sanctified, in the fulness of the presence and glory of the Gods of Eternity. poems. L39 PSALM. PART FIRST. O Lord our God, Thou art great and glorious. Thy decrees are eternal— thy purposes fix'd and un- changeable— and the times and seasons are directed by thine own Omnipotent wisdom. The reins of thy government are truth and equity; justice and mercy are the executors of thy will. Justice cannot rob mercy, neither can mercy defraud justice: therefore they walk hand in hand together in the bright sunshine of righteousness. Thy Saints rejoice in thy goodness— they glory in thy might and majesty, and they adore thee for thy con- descension and thy love. Thou art our boast in the day of prosperity; and in the day of trouble, Thou art our shield and our trust. When the purple hand of persecution lay heavily upon us, where, although liberty of conscience was boldly inscribed on the national escutcheon, and the banner of freedom broadly waved in proud majesty, the blood of Saints and Prophets copiously flowed for no other offence than the exercise of this inalienable right; 140 POEMS. And we were driven from our inheritances and from our comfortable homes, to wander shelterless in the dreary wild; Thou didst inspire the heart of thy servant Brig- ham — Thou didst impart unto him a portion of thine own eternal wisdom; and he went forth with his brethren, to seek a resting place for thy people. Thou didst direct their footsteps over trackless wastes and rugged ways, to this valley in the midst of the " everlasting hills," which, for ages, Thou hast held in reserve for this purpose — where the foot of civilization did not tread; and where the hand of cultivation had not been stretch' d forth during the lapse of centuries. This land, although a land of savages— a wild and dreary waste, they received as a boon from heaven, the gift of thy hand; and with grateful hearts, they bowed down, and in the name of thine Only Begotten, they dedicated it unto Thee for an asylum of safety and a gathering place for the Saints. Here they erected a standard, even a standard of peace, unto which they invited the scattered exiled Saints, and all honest in heart thro'out the world. Many, yea many were the trials which Thou didst call thy people to pass through, while commencing and establishing a home in the wilderness, that it might "bud and blossom as the rose," and that "springs of water might spring forth in the desert;" POEMS. 141 Yea more than ordinary fortitude, courage and per- severance were requisite to surmount those difficulties, and to endure the privations attendant on this new and extraordinary enterprise, which none but those unto whom Thou, the Most High God, had spoken, would even have attempted. But thy servants were stout hearted, for Thou wert with them— they never thought of discouragement, for Thou had required this service at their hand, and more- over, the word cannot had long since been stricken from the vocabularies of Zion, as obsolete. Although Thou didst put thy people to to the proof, to try their texture, that they might come forth like pure gold from the furnace; Thou didst bless their labors and crown their efforts with abundand success; and glory be to thy great name. PART SECOND. O God, how wonderful are thy providences, how strange are thy dealings with the children of men! Thou overrulest all things, and with Thee is the re- sult of every act of the inhabitants of the earth; Thou givest power, and man operates, Thou with- holdest, and all his plans and purposes are frustrated. Although we had fled before our enemies from time to time, even until we found refuge in the place Thou 142 POEMS. hadst appointed for us, in the fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains; still have our enemies pursued us and even here, have plotted many deep plans for our destruction. But Thou, the King, the Lord God of hosts, hast pre- served us — Thou hast wrought out for us a bountiful salvation— Thou hast extended unto us a mighty deliverance. In thine own wisdom didst Thou devise it, and by thine own might didst Thou bring it to pass. When the mouths of our enemies were opened wide to devour us — when their armies were encamped about us, and were greedy to seize upon us to make us their prey — when they thought to wipe us out of existence, and were just ready to swallow us up; then Thou didst put a hook in their jaw — Thou didst hold them as a horse by the bit — Thou didst frustrate all their schemes and cause them to be covered with shame and confu- sion. Thy Samts, in whose hearts richly dwells thy Holy Spirit, feel to praise and adore thee; and by thy mercies and thy judgments will all the nations of the earth be taught to acknowledge thy power, and to know that the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. Thou hast whispered unto them by the gentle voice of thy Spirit— Thou hast spoken unto them by thy ser- vants, and now Thou art beginning to call alond unto them by the voice of lightnings and thunders— by the POEMS. 143 voice of whirlwinds, tempests, wars, pestilence and famine.- Therefore, let the honest in heart make haste and gather to the places appointed, and let the inhabitants of Zion purify their hearts and sanctify themselves be- fore the Lord, and prepare for the day that is approach- ing. For a great and terrible day is near at hand, even a day of vengeance and recompense for the ungodly, Let all those tremble who have sought the destruc- tion of the Lord's Anointed, and let dismay and fear- fulness seize upon those who, having been taught the way of life and salvation, have turned away, and blas- phemed the name of the Holy One of Israel. But let the upright, even all the pure in heart, who have maintained their integrity, and who have labored for the welfare of Zion and the salvation of their fellow- men, lift up their heads and rejoice, for their redemp- tion drawethnigh. Praise ye the Lord. 144 POEMS. A JUBILEE POEM. For the 24th of July, 1875. This day, on history's brightest page, will live. With honor's purest diadem, adorned With life's chaste gems of beauty and of youth, We now embellish it. This is the day On which the Pioneers of Utah first, Not yet three decades since, with thankful hearts, Entered this vale. 'Twas dry and desolate — But they had come, searching their way across The trackless desert plains, to find a home For persecuted Saints; and here they found A parched and sterile waste— the heritage Of crickets, and the Indian's stamping ground; Which none but those who fully trusted in The living, speaking God of Abraham, Would have essayed, or struggled to reclaim. And, sihce the tedious, slowly plodding team Is superseded by the "iron horse," And time and distances seem swallow'd up; POEMS. 145 Recitals of the stern realities Experienced in our weary pilgrimage Across tlie plains, fall on the list'ning ear, Like studied fables, or romantic tales. God led the Pioneers, and they, the Camps Of Israel. Here, a nucleus was formed — A bright Oasjs, like a Phoenix, rose Upon the barren waste — brought forth by toil And skill — by constant patience, faith and prayer; And now the wilderness is budding as The rose; and in the desert, streams break forth. And here, God has a purpose to fulfil: A purpose greater— more important, and Magnanimous by far, than ever was Invented by the human brain, is couched In these strange movements — in the grand results; Not merely those already realized, But yet of broader, higher magnitude, Embosom'd in the undevelop'd form Of unborn times, and will immortalize Th' eventful day we now commemorate. We are God's children, and His instruments To execute His plans, and what He has Foretold through prophets, by Himself inspired, Will* to the letter, all be verified. An ancient prophet, when the holy fire Of inspiration from the Deity 14 146 POEMS. Quicken 'd his senses with a glowing spark Of light divine, beheld, far down the long, Dark vista of the Dispensations, then Unfolded, ours — the present one — the last And greatest: 'tis the Dispensation of The fulness of all times — comprising those Which have preceded; and, in this, he saw In the lone ' 'desert, a highway cast up," On which the ransom'd of the Lord should come From every clime and nation under heaven. God will establish in these mountain vales, The Kingdom Daniel saw in vision, which He likened to a "little stone," that rolled Down from the mountain—growing, moving on, Until it filled the earth. A portion of The elements are here before us, in This blooming choir — this mammoth Jubilee, Where youth and childhood— pure and innocent As vestal offerings, and beautiful As ideality's bright pencilings, Unite their voices in Jehovah's praise. O may these germs of immortality Mature in wisdom's true intelligence, Endow'd with all the gifts the fulness of The everlasting Gospel can confer. May these young sons of Zion, these bright boys, Be stalwart in their growth — be champions of, POEMS. 147 And valiant for eternal truth — improve Upon the present type of manhood, and Foreshadow a still higher to succeed; Become staunch men of God, and proof against Th' infectious evils rampant in the world. May these fair daughters — these young sprightly girls Preserve their purity — improve in mind — In heart — in manners, grace and dignity — Scorning to be the idle dolls and pets — Mere playthings on the stage of human life, But aim at higher, grander purposes — To useful, noble womanhood, to be The model mothers of a Godlike race. Such are the men and women God must have To consummate the work of Latter-day — To be His instruments, with which to form The basis of a government of Peace — Of Justice, Truth and Equity — to build His Kingdom, over which, the Prince of Life, The Prince of Peace, our King, will come to reign. 148 POEMS. SONG OF A MISSIONARY'S CHILDREN. The long, long time, dear father, Since we have look'd on you; Makes all the days seem longer — The nights seem longer too. While in a distant country, Across the mighty sea; We hope you're feeling happy Wherever you may be. Our kind good mother teaches Us how to pray for you, When we kneel down together, At night and morning too. She says to distant nations, By God's command, you're sent, To preach the glorious gospel, And we must be content. We pray that Jesus' spirit May ever fill your heart; And give you light and knowledge, To others to impart: POEMS. 149 That thro* your heav'nly counsel, The humble may be blest — The pure in heart directed, To Zion in the West. We pray that God will give you Good health and appetite, With wholesome food and clothing, And quiet sleep at night. When you are waiting dinner, In homes across the sea — When prattling stranger children Are clinging to your knee; While gently you caress them, Do not your feelings roam, With fatherly affection, To your dear mountain home, Where loving hearts are beating, And pure as winter snow — Where brightest eyes are beaming With love's deep filial glow? Yet father — dearest father, We do not — dare not pray For your return to Zion Till God shall name the day. 150 POEMS. ANNIE'S SYMPATHY. Little Annie clung to her mother's side, And the tear-drops stood in her eye, As she saw the earth wrapp'd in its wintry pride, And heard the cold blast move by. The mother said, as she kissed her child, "My darling has nothing to fear; Though the storm without is fierce and wild, It never can enter here. Our house is beautiful, nice and warm, With the fire's bright cheerful blaze: Your father provides for you well; like a charm You shall spend the wintry days." " Yes, mother, your child knows your words are true," The dear loving Annie replied, "I have all that I need, — I have father and you, By whom every want is supplied. But I'm thinking of poor little Carrie and Ned: Their house is so shabby and old,— Their mother is sick and their father dead,— That I think they are hungry and cold. POEMS. 151 They live in that house by the big tall oak Which the frost and the winds have made bare; I've watched the chimney and see no smoke Rise up on the stormy air. No kind father's footsteps are ever heard On that threshold where orphans tread — No father's lips with a loving word, Nor his hand to provide them bread." This short speech was made without guile or art; It was love's sweet, innocent strain; The appeal was made to a mother's heart, And it was not made in vain. The mother in haste envelop 'd her form, With sympathy warm in her breast; Kiss'd the daughter good-bye, and braved the storm, To rescue the poor distress'd. Her purse was large and her hands not slack, And the old house was rill'd with joy; And Annie's heart, when her mother came back, Beat with pleasure without alloy. 152 POEMS. ANGEL WHISPERINGS TO THE DYING CHILD. Darling, we are waiting for thee, Hasten, now: Go with us, where wreaths are twining For thy brow. In the innocence of childhood, Thou wilt be HaiPd with gentle shouts of welcome, And of glee. Joyous cherubs wait thy coming Up above; Ready now to crown and bless thee, With' their love. Loved one, haste — delay no longer — With us go From a clime that intermingles Joy and woe. Go with us'to heav'nly arbors, Deck'd with flow'rs; Where ambrosial fragrance, streaming, Fills the bow'rs. POEMS. 153 Thou art pure — by earth's corruptions Undented; From the ills of life, we'll take thee, Sinless child. Friends will mourn, but this bereavement They'll endure; Knowing that their cherished darling Is secure. Like a rosebud yet unopen'd, Thou shalt bloom; Where no blight shall mar thy freshness, And perfume. Child, we're waiting now to bear thee To our home, Full of life — of love and beauty, Darling, come. MY FATHER DEAR. Tune— "My Mother Dear." My own indulgent father; Most good and kind to me, My heait is full of gratitude, As heart of child can be. 154 POEMS. The sweetest tones cannot express What my young bosom feels, For all the love and tenderness, A father's care reveals. My father dear — My father dear — My own kind, loving father. My earthly gifts and blessings, From father's bounties flow: O, how shall I the debt repay? What can a child bestow? I will not deign an offering From mammon's shining mart — A richer token, I will bring — A tribute from the heart. My father dear — My father dear — My own kind, loving father. I think upon his kindness, And fond emotions swell From pure affection's fountain streams, And more than words can tell. The purpose of my heart shall be My gratitude to prove, And with my life's integrity, To testify my love. My father dear — My father dear — My own kind, loving father. POEMS. 155 SANTA CLADS. Remember your time honor'd laws, Kind master of the merry glee : Prepare your gifts, good Santa Claus, And hang them on the Christmas tree. And where no Christmas trees are found, With liberal hand your gifts distill; The bags and stockings hanging 'round, Great Santa Claus, be sure to fill. Untie your purse — enlarge your heai t — O, do not pass one single door; And in your gen'rous walk impart Your comforts to the sick and poor. When eyes are watching for the morn, In humble hut and cottage too; How disappointed and forlorn, If missed, dear Santa Claus, by you. Go all the rounds of baby-hood, And bless and cheer the hearts of all The "little folks," and please be good To those who're not so very small. 156 POEMS. ADDRESS TO PARENTS. Before an Assembly of the Polysophical Association, Salt Lake City. With much respect, Fathers, and Mothers too, The Muse, this evening, humbly unto you, In Zion's name, would proffer an appeal Upon a theme involving Zion's weal. As Zion's welfare is our mutual aim, And our united interest, I will claim Not the indulgence of the list'ning ear, Nor nattering plaudits, sycophants would hear; But your attention, thoughtful, calm and grave — Your sober judgment, I would fondly crave. You all are stewards of what you possess, And may abuse, or use in righteousness: And thus, the children you most dearly love, May prove a blessing, or a curse, may prove. The infant mind is like an empty cell Where good and evil find a place to dwell; And may, by culture, be enlarged and filled, And truth and error, one or both, instil'd. Let healthy, vigorous limbs inactive lie, How soon they wither, and how soon they die! POEMS. 157 And without exercise, the mental powers, Weak, unsupplied with proper, useful stores, Will not attain to their diplomad worth, Nor shed their own inherent lustre forth. We cannot powers and faculties create, But 'tis our province, both to cultivate: And while life's busy scenes are hurrying thro', The most important is the first to do. You want your sons prepared to carry on The work you have commenced, when you are gone — In high, important offices to act — As Zion's Judges, business to transact, In things momentous, for "all Israel's sake, With the salvation of the world at stake. Inspire their minds to earnestly pursue Improvement, and inspire your daughters too; Prompt both to mental labor, while the mind. Like pliant boughs, is easily inclined — While they with readiness and pleasure take Th' impressions which the sculptor's chisels make. Your sons, as heralds, soon may go abroad, To face the world and teach the truths of God — The wise — the erudite of earth to meet — Knowledge with knowledge—mind with mind compete- All their attainments criticised and tried Before tribunals of ungodly pride, Where no apologies will be received, And no mistakes and errors be retrieved. 'Tis true, the Lord his spirit does bestow, And thro' that medium streams of knowledge flow: 158 POEMS. But when the opportunities are given, Thro' the o'erruling providence of heaven, For cultivation, no one need expect That God with smiles will sanction our neglect. Would not your bowels of compassion yearn, To think your child iu stranger lands must learn By force of cruel circumstances, what He might have been, at home, in kindness taught? And very soon your blooming daughters will Their destined spheres, as wives and mothers, fill. The best, the noblest boon they can receive— The richest fortune you have power to give — The best of patrimonies under heaven, Is education, timely, wisely given. Not eruditions superficial gloss — Its glitt'ring tinsel and its flimsy dross. Instead of fabled, sentimental glare, Teach them what was, what will be and what are. Teach them the principles of life and health, And store their minds with intellectual wealth; For all they treasure here, of mental worth, They'll carry with them when they leave the earth. The power of method, students gain in school, Forms a credential — constitutes a tool, An operative instrument, whereby Their own resources, they can self-supply. Let Zion's children all, be taught in youth, Upon the basis of Eternal Truth— POEMS. 159 Self -cultivated too, as well as taught — Trained to reflection and inured to thought; And here in time, and in Eternity, The sons, as pillars in the church, will be: The daughters too, as "polished stones" will shine, And ornament their true ancestral line, And be prepared, in beauty clad, to move With grace and dignity, in courts above. IN MEMORIAL Sacred to the memory of my Sister, Leonora A. Snow Morley, who departed this life February 11th, 1872. 'Tis sad to part with those we dearly love, But parting comes to all. No purer tie — No holier sympathy warms human breast, Than that of loving sisterhood, where heart To heart is joined and interwoven with A long, well tested and unbroken chain Of mutual confidence— a confidence Unstirred by envy, jealousy, or breach 160 POEMS. Of sacred trust. Where thought's wide, ample stream Flows unabridg'd: Where each can think aloud. Such was the love-inspiring confidence, Strengthened as years accumulated with My sister and myself. Ours was the sweet Reciprocation, where each sentiment Found safe repository — safe as heaven's Eternal Archives. But my sister's gone! I feared — I felt — I knew she soon must go: But as beside her bed I watched, and saw The last faint breath that fed the springs of life Exhaled, it seemed frail nature's finest cord Was torn asunder, and a crushing sense Of loneliness, like solitude's deep shade, In that unguarded moment, made me feel As though the lights of earth had all gone out, And left me desolate. I knew 'twas false — I knew that many noble, loving ones, And true, remained; but none can fill The vacant place: it is impossible. Th' endearing ties, as Saints of God, we hold, The ties of consanguinity — secured By sacred cov'nants which the Priesthood binds On earth, and they're recorded in the heavens, We shall perpe^uate„beyojid.the grave: Eternal union with the cherish'd ones, Will crown the glory of immortal lives. POEMS. 161 True love may multiply its objects most Extensively, without diminishing Its strength; but love accepts no substitute. When the fond mother lays her darling down In death's cold, silent sleep; though others may Be added to her arms, the vacancy Remains until the resurrection shall Give back her child. My sister, valiantly Life's changeful battle waged — her life was full Of years: her years were filled with usefulness: Her trust was in the living God, who hears And speaks as He was wTont to hear and speak; She loved the Gospel and exemplified It in her life. Her heart knew no deceit — Her lips ne'er moved with fulsome flattery — Her tongue with guile. Other positions of Responsibility, as well as those Of wife and mother, she has nobly filled. Her sun went down in peace. Death had, for her, No sting— the grave will have no victory. Her noble spirit lives, and dwells above. The casket rests—the pure, component part, Th' eternal portion of the human form, In life combined with impure elements, Sleeps in the bosom of our mother Earth, Secure from nature's changing processes — Despite decomposition's complex skill, 15 162 POEMS. Until the glorious resurrection morn: 'Twill then come forth in triumph o'er the tomb, And clothe the spirit in immortal bloom. Adieu my sister — we shall meet again On earth, and share Messiah's glorious reign. IN MEMORY OF WILLARD RICHARDS, Counselor to President Brigham Young, Hear that low, plaintive sound! why so slowly that beU? List — list to the tones — 'tis a funeral knell: And I catch from the breezes' sad murmuring tread, A faint whisper that says, Brother Willard is dead! He's not dead: He has laid his mortality by, And has gone to appear in the councils on high— In the bonds of pure fellowship; there to be With the Saviors that dwell in Eternity. We miss him — we miss him: but why should we mourn? He's in patience, life's struggles and weaknesses borne: He has fought the good fight, and the victory gained, And, through faith, immortality's powers attained. POEMS. 163 He was prudent and wise — he was true to his trust- He has gone to unite with the noble and just; Whose afflictions, in time, he was happy to share, And he freely partakes of their blessings there, As a friend — as a brother, we lov'd him well; But now he has gone with the Gods to dwell — To partake with the martyrs a banquet of love: There is joy — there are shouts in the world above. Salt Lake City, March, 1854. REFLECTIONS ON THE DEPARTURE OF JEDEDIAH M. GRANT, Counselor to President Brigham Young. He's gone, 'tis true, but yet, he is not dead: Such men as Jedediah do not die. Death came as a swift messenger from God, And cut the thread that bound the mantle of Mortality around him, and he shook It off, a senseless, lifeless mass of earth. It fill'd its sphere in life — he honor'd it, Keeping it pure from all defilement; and He sanctified it as a temple for The Holy Ghost: in which it truly dwelt. 164 POEMS. He needs no eulogy to speak his worth — His works and faithfulness eclipse all praise, His life personified integrity: Few such men live — few such have ever liv'd. The world, to cover up, and hide its own Cold-hearted selfishness, oft will applaud The merciful, but who applauds the just? He had the moral courage to be just, And he was just as well as merciful. Some say that Jedediah's gone to rest. They mean mortality, not him. To rest? No: J. M. Grant could never rest, and leave His fellow-laborers here to tug and toil — Spend and be spent, to move the mighty ship Of Zion on. No, no: that never was His calling. He will never rest, until Zion's redeem 'd — Jerusalem built up — Iniquity destroy'd, and satan bound. He'll not relax in faith and diligence Until his brethren shall with him partake The promis'd blessings of a glorious rest. He boldly fought the pow'rs of darkness here And he'll oppose them there, with all his might; Till satan and his hosts are overcome— Till truth and righteousness on earth shall reign. We know he's gone! We feel it deeply too; But wherefore should we mourn? He only liv'd For Zion here — he lives for Zion still. He lives, and lives where the gross, cumbrous clog POEMS. 165 Of frail mortality cannot impede The steady progress of his upward course. He's gone with all the gospel armor on: And where he'll fight the battles of the Lord, With even greater pow'r and skill than he Was wont to do while cloth'd with mortal flesh. Yes, such was Jedediah: He was true To his profession— true to God and man. Salt Lake City, Dec. 4, 1856. LINES Written for the Occasion, and Sung at the Funeral of Heber C. Kimball, Counselor to Presi- dent Brigham Young. Be cheered, O Zion!— cease to weep: Heber we deeply loved: He is not dead — he does not sleep — He lives with those above. His flesh was weary: let it rest Entomb'd in mother Earth, Till Jesus comes; when pure and blest, Immortal 'twill come forth. 166 POEMS. His mighty spirit, pure and free From every bond of earth; In realms of bright Eternity, Is crowned with spotless worth. He lives for Zion: he has gone To plead her cause above, Before the High and Holy One, Injustice, truth and love. Let wives and children humbly kiss The deep afflictive rod: A " father to the fatherless, " God is "the widow's God." S. L. City, June 24, 1868. IN MEMORY OF GEORGE A. SMITH, Counselor to President Brig ham Young. A friend of God — a friend of man — a kind And loving husband, father, brother, Saint, Has gone! The deep, sad sense of loneliness, Felt in the soft and soothing whisperings POEMS. 167 Of twilight zephyrs as they gently move, And seem in mournful requiem to chant The solemn fact, speaks volumes to the heart. He is not dead; yet, death has done its work; It came, but not in ghastliness — it as A kindly porter set the "gates ajar," And he stepped forth, leaving the tenement A breathless corse, that slumbers in the tomb; 'Twas worn and weary and it needed rest. No faith, nor prayers, nor the heart-yearnings of The loving and beloved, could longer bind That mighty spirit in an earthy form. The wreath which mem'ry twines for him around The warm affections of the Saints of. God, Will still be bright, and fresh with fragrance, when The tallest, proudest monumental spires, That grace the tombs of earthly royalties, Have crumbled 'neath the with 'ring stroke of Time. He made his mark in honor's upward path; And his example is to those he loves, The richest legacy he could bequeath. With firm integrity, unflinchingly He's " fought the fight of faith." He's nobly fought The powers of darkness — stem'd the foaming tide Of ignorance, prejudice and bigotry, Combined in force against Eternal Truth; And now, disrobed of frail mortality's Encumbrances, he joins the mighty host 168 POEMS. Of valiant vet'rans of the cross, who're all Co-operating with the Saints on earth; And with that band he'll shout triumphant strains. Here, he was humble as a little child, And yet, as boldest lion, he was bold And brave. Unflinchingly he ever dared What is no ordinary daring in This fawning, sycophantic age; he dared To speak the truth. He verily is one Of God's best specimens of genuine Nobility, i.e., an honest man. We're proud to know he was and is our friend. " Peace to his ashes." His loved memory Needs not of mortal praise. His works abide; And he, with all whose lives are fashioned by The unadulterated Gospel's mould, Will live eternally where God shall reign. Salt Lake City, Sept. 11, 1875 POEMS. 169 CAROLINE. Inscribed to Elder Henry Maiben. To live a Saint— a Saint to die Perfects the aim of mortal life — Secures the key to courts on high, With all the powers of being, rife. Thus, when a ling'ring, parting look Of that dear gemless casket form, Which in the coffin lay, I took, This thought diffused a soothing charm. For she was faithful to the end — In life's associations, true — An upright, kind, confiding friend — A faithful wife, and mother too. Peace to her dust: Your Caroline Lives where no earthly ills betide: In brighter spheres her graces shine: She lived a Saint — a Saint she died. Salt Lake City, Oct. 17, 1864. 16 170 POEMS. ALICE. She is not dead. She has laid aside The visible, mortal form: Until the dust shall be purified And come forth with a brighter charm. The casket was beautiful, lovely, and fair, While the jewel within it shone — The sweet spirit is now where the holy ones are; But the earth must return to its own. O, she was too pure for a world like this: She has gone to a happier sphere: To partake with the perfect above, of bliss, Which she never had tasted here. She pass'd like a fragrant, blooming flow'r, From the coarse, rugged scenes of time; To a world where disease can have no pow'r — To a pare and celestial clime. We behold her not, tho' she is not far; And her spirit will often come To minister where her dear parents are, Till they meet in her beautiful home. POEMS. 171 ELOQUENCE. There is an eloquence that breathes throughout The world inanimate. There is a tone, A silent tone of speech, that meets the heart In whisperings pathetic, soft and sweet — Like the enchantments of the night, which move On slumber's downy chariot wheels, and clothe In charming playfulness, the hours of rest. The clouds that float in fleecy sheets across The pale blue canopy, or rest upon The lofty mountain-side, or else condensed, Roll up in massy form and feature dark — The sun which moves in silent majesty, And spreads its beams of light and day abroad — The placid moon, and nightly glittering orbs, All seem to utter tones of eloquence. What is the little insect's buzz, and what The rustling of a straw, to the sweet notes That flow harmonious from the harpsichord? And what is silent nature's eloquence, To the imperial eloquence of words Whose pathos is intelligence? Flowing From lips by wisdom's touch inspired, it charms- 172 POEMS. It captivates the soul; it wields a power Above the harmony of David's harp, Which charmed to peace the evil-haunted Saul. Brown melancholy, sober pensiveness, And all such moody spirits lose their grasp, And fly like mists before the rising sun, When language, with instruction richly fraught, Or with amusement's mingled colors tinged, Moving in earnest strains of eloquence, Falls in rich cadence on the feeling heart. There is a charm in music: I have felt The magic of its wand, and felt my heart Melt by the witching of the power of sound: But 'tis the sovereign power of speech that breaks Inertia's pond'rous chain, and gives us all Creation's wide extent to range. What else Will lift the sluggish spirit from the throne Of idol-self, to magnanimity? Far back in olden times, when Moses led From Egypt's land the captive chosen tribes, The power of eloquence high honors gained. Moses was " slow of speech," but Aaron plied This potent modeler of the human mind. But what can paint the beauties, or can tell The force of eloquence, but eloquence? And what's all other eloquence, compared With the bold eloquence of Truth, when couch'd In plainness, flowing from the lips of men POEMS. 173 Of God, clothed with the Holy Priesthood, and Inspired by the Eternal's spirit? Truth That in one grasp, the future, present, past, Time and eternity, and life and death, Mortality and immortality, and the Whole destiny of man and earth, combines. This, this I call undying eloquence, With rights and powers to probe corruption's depths — Expose iniquity, and point the shaft Of death at Error. This is Eloquence That breathes forth living fire, and animates The soul of thought, and lifts it upward to The courts of endless day, to bask itself In the pavilion of Omnipotence. WOMAN. Address written for, and read in an assembly of the Polysophical Association, in President L. Snow's Hall. Before this noble audience, once again A Lyre of Zion now resumes its strain. Thought is a currency: Speech is designed To circulate the treasures of the mind. 174 POEMS. When this Association meets, this Hall Extends a mutual fellowship to all; And constitutes an intellectual mint, Where words are coined — ideas take their tint — Where Morals, Arts, and Sciences are taught — Mind prompting mind, and thought inspiring thought. When last assembled, Woman's^worth and sphere Were beautifully illustrated here: And then the thought suggested to my view, That Woman's self might speak of Woman too; But not for " Woman's Rights " to plead, or claim: For that, in Zion, I should blush to name: Unasked, unsought, we freely here obtain What Woman elsewhere seeks and^asks in yain. I have apologies to offer here For ladies who demand a wider sphere: Having obtained enough of truthful light To see life's strange perversions ofttie right, They seek with noble, yet with fruitless aim, Corruptions and abuses to reclaim: With all their efforts to remove the curse Matters are daily growing worse and worse; They can as well unlock without a key, As change the tide of man's degeneracy, Without the Holy, Priesthood: 'tis almost Like reck'ning bills in absence of the host. No more of this: I'll speak of Woman now Where Inspiration's powers, the mind endow— POEMS. 175 Where rules are given to renovate the earth — To try all textures and to prove all worth. And what is Woman's calling? Where her place? Is she destined to honor, or disgrace? The time is past for her to reign alone, And singly, make a husband's heart her throne: No more she stands with sov'reignty confess'd Nor yet a plaything, dandled and caressed; Neither a dazzling butterfly, nor mote On light, ethereal, balmy waves to float. Hers is a holy calling, and her lot With consequences highly, deeply fraught. "Helpmeet" for Man — with him she holds a key Of present and eternal destiny. She bends from life's illusive greatness, down- She "stoops to conquer" — serves, to earn a crown. Love, kindness, rectitude with wisdom fraught, Give Woman greatness, wheresoe'er her lot: However great, let once her aim be power — Her greatness lessens from that very hour. Aspiring brains fictitious heights create, And seek to clothe in greatness ere they're great. All dignity is but an idle sport If goodness forms no pillar for support. Who through submission, faith and constancy, Like ancient Sarah, gains celebrity, And thus obtains an honorable place, A high position may sustain and grace. 176 POEMS. That there are rights and privileges too, To Woman's sphere, and to her duties, due, Reason and justice, truth and heaven confirm; But they're not held by force, nor took by storm. If "Rights" are right when they are rightly gained, "Rights" must be wrong when wrongfully obtained: The putting forth a hand to take the prize, Before we fairly win it is unwise. Let Woman then a course in life pursue To win respect as merits honest due, And, feeling God's approval, act her part, With noble independence in her heart; Nor change, nor swerve, nor shrink, whatever is, Tho' fools may scoff— impertinence may quiz: Faithful tho' oft in faithfulness unknown— With no whereon to lean, but God alone. Then, by the laws that rule the courts above, She holds the Charter to eternal love; Which, built on confidence, and nobly won, In time to come, will gen'rously atone For all she feels at times, neglected now — Misjudged and unappreciated too. With chaff and tares, wheat may be buried low- Gold hid in dross, where none but angels know. Wit, youth and beauty, may a charm impart, Which twines a magic spell around the heart — A transient infl'ence— ever prone to wane Where sterling worth, the charm does not sustain. The jewel, confidence, is far above The fickle streams of earth's degen'rate love. POEMS. 177 Nature inviolate holds certain laws — There's no effect produced without a cause: Integrity and faithfulness, through hard And patient labor, reap their own reward, The gains of craft will take their own light wings, And all assumptions are but short-lived things. As we move forward to a perfect state And leave the dross, degeneracies create, Laws of affinity will closely bind Heart unto heart— congenial mind to mind. Life, order— all things are in embryo, And thro' experience, God is teaching how To mould — to fashion to the pattern given, And form on earth a duplicate of heaven. A calm must be preceded by a storm, And revolutions go before reform: Faith, practice, heads and hearts must all be tried, To test what can and what cannot abide. When shakings, tossings, changings, all are through- All things their level find — their classes too; A perfect Government will be restored, And Truth and Holiness and God ador'd. But ere this renovating work is through, Woman, as well as Man, has much to do: Responsibilities, however great, Advancing onward, will increase in weight; And she, that she receiving, may dispense, Needs wisdom, knowledge and intelligence; 178 POEMS. Of high refinements too, she should partake, With rich endowments, for her offspring's sake. Queen of her household—authorized to bless — To plant the principles of righteousness — To paint the guide-board that thro' life will tell, And lead instinctively to heaven or hell — To fix the base, the fundamental part Of future greatness in the head and heart, Which constitutes the germ of what will be In upper courts of Immortality. What we experience here, is but a school Wherein the ruled will be prepared to rule. The secret and the key, the spring, the soul Of rule — of government, is self control. Clothed with the beauties purity reflects, Th' acknowledg'd glory of the other sex, From life's crude dross and rubbish, will come forth, By weight of character — by strength of worth; And thro' obedience, Woman will obtain The power of reigning, and the right to reign. POEMS. 179 ONE OF TIME'S CHANGES. The times are chang'd from what they were, When all the fairest of the fair, Whom Fame immortaliz'd as "beauties," Were skillful in domestic duties. Some modern Misses scarce believe That Ladies us'd to spin and weave; Or that gay princesses of yore, Wrought the rich garments, princes wore. When Fashion with proud Folly met, The stars of Industry, all set; Pleasure and Profit then disbanded, And Labor, like grim Want, was branded. 'Twas strange as foolish — but it got so, Who were not idle, would be thought so; And would be ladies grew so common, They rose en masse, to plunder mammon. The lamp which lights the latter-day, Will clear the mists and fogs away; And for our future practice, leave The web of wisdom, heav'n shall weave. 180 POEMS. The Saints must break false habit's chain, And things to right, restore again — Turn Fashion's tide to noble uses, And thus redeem its long abuses. To stamp respectability On what begets utility; Will hasten earth's regeneration, And us an independent nation. We need not take the world by storm: We hold the keys to all reform: Then let us not in folly spurn them, But rise, as Saints of God, and turn them. Now who, in spite of Fashion's peal Will dare draw music from the wheel, Or regulate the kitchen, when Cornelia stops, to wield the pen? POEMS. 181 TEMPLE SONG. Written for the Dedication of the Temple in St. George, April 6, 1877. Hark, hark! angelic minstrels sing A sweet, melodious strain; Heav'n's high, celestial arches ring With joyful news again. Lo! now another key is turned: 'Tis God's divine behest; And those for whom our hearts have yearn'd, Our dead, again are blest. Chorus: From the valleys of Ephraim hosannas arise, And new hallelujahs descend from the skies; Glad shouts of redemption from bondage resound, From the shades where the spirits in prison are bound. In eighteen hundred seventy-seven, Let holy records tell, A Temple's finished— bolts are riven In twain where spirits dwell. We've been baptiz'd for them, and now, As agents, in their stead, 182 POEMS. We're wash'd and we're anointed too— The living for the dead. Chorus— From the valleys, etc. Within a Temple's sacred court, Beneath its royal tower, Let humble, faithful Saints resort To wield salvation's power. Salvation's work! O, glorious theme! Too high for mortal tongues; Seraphic hosts its grace proclaim In everlasting songs. Chorus — From the valleys, etc. A great, momentous time's at hand; Portending signs appear; The wise will see and understand The day of God is near. Ye heav'nly gates, no more ajar — Henceforth stand open wide; The Bridegroom's voice is heard afar, Prepare, prepare the Bride. Chorus — From the valleys, etc. POEMS. 183 RETIREMENT. I love retirement. To my spirit 'tis Like honey-comb, stor'd full with gathered sweet Nicely extracted from the summer flow'rs. 'Tis a palladium, within its courts, That jewel of refined society, The female character, well fashioned in The mould of virtue, is most beautiful. There may reflection take an easy chair, And bathe the nettled brow of public life. I never lov'd those scenes of gayety, Where happiness is but a hollow sound Of shining vanity and splendid mirth — Where friendship is diluted in a stream Of empty compliments, until its form And nature disappear — where common sense Becomes a tributary sacrifice Upon the shrine of fashion, leaving thought In highly rarified and gaseous form. Give me the happy medium between The world's gay scenes, and dark, brown solitude: Beneath the weight of which, the mind would lose Its native elasticity, and would 184 POEMS. Become absorbed, and thus identify With the dense mass of matter, lying round. Pure social life, the holiest gem which heav'n Confer'd upon this desert world— the bright Oasis of our earthly pilgrimage— The pearl that decorates the courts above; Finds in retirement's treat, it's richest zest. REFLECTIONS. 'Twas in the house of mourning. Friends had met To weep with those that wept, and pay the last Sad tribute of affectionate respect To lovely sleeping innocence—faded, Yet beautiful: For Death, in eagerness To show his own dexterity, without Co-operation in their mutual art Of fell destruction, imperceptibly, Had stolen the march of his old colleague, Time. Death is not mov'd, e'en by the eloquence Of tears, else had Orlando's sleep been short; For many tears were shed: And when I thought Of his small portion of the day of life, POEMS. 185 And how his sparkling eyes were closed upon Those blissful scenes, most fascinatingly Exposed to view, in the prospective page Of life's forthcoming drama— torn away From friendship's carol— love's caressing smile, And hope's bright, fascinating, beautiful Portray, and every sunny thing of earth That makes us cling to life; I felt my own Eye moisten with a voluntary tear. There is reproof in silence: This I felt: For then my reckless gaze perchanced to rest On the fixed countenance of the pale corse. It met my glances most rebukingly, And seemed to say, Can kind hearts sadden when A royal jewel leaves the casket of Frail, perishable clay, and stainless goes To heav'n, and in the holy presence of Its God, is decorously laid upon An angel's bosom? Should affection's eye Weep o'er the spirit's early exit from This fallen sphere — this world of hopes and fears, When, freed from dull mortality, it flies Back to its native clime, and moves again In scenes of high intelligence, un marred By any of the ills of mortal life? I fqlt my heart reproved, and hush'd my grief, And yet not all: I sorrow 'd for the friends Who mourned their darling boy. For them I shed The tear of un dissembled sympathy. 17 186 POEMS. A WINTER SOLILOQUY. I hear— I see its tread as Winter comes— Clad in white robes, how terribly august! Its voice spreads terror — ev'ry step is inark'd With devastation ! Nature in affright, Languid and lifeless, sinks before the blast. Should nature mourn? No: gentle Spring, ere long, Will reascend the desolated throne : Her animating voice will rouse from death, Emerging from its chains, more beauteous far, The world of variegated Nature. Not so with man — Rais'd from the lowly dust, He blooms awhile; but when he fades, he sets To rise no more — on earth no more to bloom! Swift is his course and sudden his decline! Behold, to-day, his pulse beat high with hope — His arms extended for the eager grasp Of pleasure's phantom, fancy's golden ken Paints in a gilded image on his heart. Behold, to-morrow where? Ah! who can tell? Ye slumb'ring tenants, will not you reply? No: from his bow, death has a quiver sent, And seal'd your senses in a torpid sleep. POEMS. 187 Then who can tell? The living know him not: Altho' perhaps, a friend or two, may drop A tear, and say he's gone — she is no more! Hark! from on high a glorious sound is heard, Rife with rich music in eternal strains. The op'ning heavens, by revelation's voice Proclaim the key of knowledge unto man. A Savior comes — He breaks the icy chain ; And man, resuscitated from the grave, Awakes to life and immortality, To be himself — more perfectly himself, Than e'er he bloom'd in the primeval state Of his existence in this wintry world. MY EPITAPH. 'Tis not the tribute of a sigh From sorrow's bleeding bosom drawn; Nor tears that now from pity's eye, To weep for me when I am gone; No costly balm, no rich perfume, No vain sepulchral rite I claim; 188 POEMS. No mournful knell, no marble tomb, Nor sculptur'd stone to tell my name. It is a holier tithe I crave Than time-proof, monumental piers, Than roses planted on my grave, Or willows drip'd in dewy tears. The garlands of hypocrisy May be equip 'd with many a gem; I prize the heart's sincerity Before a princely diadem. In friendship's memory let me live, I know no earthly wish beside; I ask no more; yet, oh, forgive This impulse of instinctive pride. The silent pulse of memory, That beats to the unutter'd tone Of tenderness, is more to me Than the insignia of a stone: For friendship holds a secret cord, That with the fibres of my heart, Entwines so deep, so close, 'tis hard For death's dissecting hand to part. I feel the low responses roll, Like distant echoes of the night, And whisper, softly through my soul, * "I would not be forgotten quite." poems. 189 OUR NATION. Tune — " Bingen on the Rhine." How came this mighty nation? From whence the germ of pow'r? It first appeared on "Plymouth Rock"- It came from Europe's shore: Emerging from its weakness, And from th' oppressor's hand, It pluck'd the brightest laurel wreath, And claim 'd the happiest land. It grew in might and majesty — In greatness, wealth, and skill; And held its future destiny Subservient to its will: Kingdoms and empires, one by one, Come bending to its shrine, While gems of art and genius In blending beauty shine. Beauty, beauty, In blending beauty shine. A change came o'er the nation That once was brave and free. 190 POEMS. That boasted of its patriotism — Its peace and liberty: Whose broad sails kissed the ocean breeze- Whose steamers plow'd the deep — Whose glory lighted distant seas — Whose prowess scal'd the steep — Whose sons, in war, were valiant — In peace, like pillars stood To guard the post of human right — To bless and shield the good. Its banner, every country hail'd, And called th' oppress'd to come: And where protection triumph'd, Enjoy a peaceful home. Peaceful, peaceful, Enjoy a peaceful home. Alas! alas! our nation Has fallen — O how changed! From justice, truth and liberty How fearfully estranged! Its honor has departed, Its beauty is despoiled, Its soaring Eagle chas'd away, Its banner is defiled! The light of freedom has gone down, The son of peace has fled; And war's fell demon marches on, With fierce and haughty tread! The holy ties of brotherhood, Lie desecrated now— POEMS. 191 'Round freedom's blood-bathed altar, Vile sons of mammon bow. Mammon, mammon, Vile sons of mammon bow. The peace that fled our nation Has won a coronet, In its only earthly refuge In the land of Deseret. Amid the Rocky Mountains A Phcenix has appeared, An ensign has been lifted up, A standard has been rear'd, By men, who, with the help of God, A cruel bondage broke, And saved a loyal people from A base, fraternal yoke. The crown of freedom now is placed Where freedom's crown should be: And the noblest hearts are shouting God, Truth and Liberty. Shouting, Shouting, God, Truth and Liberty. Salt Lake City, October, 1862. 192 POEMS. TO, SHE KNOWS WHO. Dear Lady — My Sister: I fain would express A wish for your welfare— a wish that will bless. 'Twere not well if your life were a pathway of ease, In which all that transpires is conspiring to please — A life where no clouds and no shadows shall come, Where all is bright sunshine, sweet fragrance and bloom; A life without object, care, use or design — A life with no furnace, the gold to refine. Be assured, my dear lady, far better your life Be with sorrow and trying perplexities rife; That the gifts you're endow 'd with thro' experience grow, And your power of endurance by tests you may show. It is needful to taste of the good and the ill, To prepare high positions with honor to fill. In proportion to labors, rewards will be given. May you earn in earth's workshop a fulness in heaven. May you don all the armor the Gospel requires, And invest all the energies wisdom inspires. In the course you're pursuing, be certain you're right, Then, whate'er may oppose, neither shun nor invite. POEMS. 193 Unstinted by sloth and unclogg'd by abuse, May your faculties strengthen by practical use. May your usefulness grow, and your labors, though great, Increase year by year in responsible weight. To humanity's interests ever awake, Be firm in Truth's conflict for righteousness' sake. There is much to replenish, and much to subdue, Which requires deep reflection and vigilance, too. The relief of the poor claims the heart and the hand; While retrenchment reforms, great exertions demand. Arouse every effort those ills to remove, Which sap the foundation of union and love; Which thro' worldly ambition and selfishness grow, And pander to vain ostentation and show. Set your face as a flint, else ambition and pride Will your precept and practice ignobly divide. May the rich consolations the Gospel bestows, Under every bereavement, your sorrows compose. May your name in all future, in honor be known For your noble example— for the good you have done, That your peace, as a river, may constantly flow, Is the wish of your sister and friend, Salt Lake City, March 17, 1871. 18 194 POEMS. TO MRS. Dear Lady: Pleasure sat gently smiling when I read th' effusion of your pen. Thought wakens thought: a thought express 'd Called your thoughts forth, with which I'm blest. One gem of mind, I value more Than glittering piles from mammon's store. We find a radius in the soul, Illumined by th' eternal pole, And thro' the heart's deep sympathy, We taste of immortality. The blessed prescience God has given Of immortality and heaven, Sweetens and creams life's flowing cup, And swallows all the bitter up. All pain and grief to pleasure tend— Each human suff'ring has an end: Each yoke will burst—each bondage break — Each wounded heart will cease to ache: All clouds will scatter— storms will cease- All warfare terminate in peace — All swellings of the waves, be o'er— There is no sea without a shore, . POEMS. 195 That restless thing, anxiety, The finely masked disloyalty, Is but the lack of confidence In God, our strength and our defence. Compared with past life — life before, What is this present? 'Tis no more Than a mere point— a little dot, (God grant it may not prove a blot.) A life of toil, of care and pain, Where weakness, pride and ign'rance reign. But 'tis as God ordained to be, And He well knows what's good for me; And all I have to fear, or do, Is to obediently pursue His Priesthood leadings, and obey His providences day by day: And thus, whatever Father gives, His daughter thankfully receives. And when I'm all in all resigned — In very heart as well as mind, I'm filled with light — I've eyes to see His kind parental love for me: To His requirements, constant yes, Produces constant happiness; And this, the germ of perfect peace, If cherished, daily will increase. To me, it matters little now, To where I rise — to what I bow; Or toil or ease, I little care If Father's smiles I freely share; 196 POEMS. And when th' interior all is right, I have no outward foes to fight. I war for Zion — not for me: I've signed a gen'ral amnesty To all injustice, strife and hate, Which, to my single self, relate: Th' intenti'al evil-doer will, Sooner or later, foot the bill. Then need we trouble? Surely, no; Nor stoop to fight an outward foe. I glimpse at data far behind What now is tangible to mind. Ah! there's a something comes to me, Like figures wrought in filligree: A something old— both old and new, And yet, inviolably true. Thought bursts the bound of this low earth- On past-life's ocean launches forth, And traces our existence, ere The Gods had formed this nether sphere. But now I'm but a child of dust; Thanks, thanks to Him, in whom I trust, I'm not without his wise direction, His smiles, his guidance and protection. Adam, our father— Eve, our mother, And Jesus Christ, our elder brother, Are to my understanding shown : My heart responds, they are my own. POEMS. 197 Perfection lifts them far from me, But what they are, we yet may be, If we, tho' slowly, follow on, We'll reach the point to which they've gone. Then, Sister, what— O, what this life— Our Edens and our Goshens, rife With all the fatness, and the most Of excellence that mortals boast, Contrasted with eternal blessings, When Earth renew'd, and worth possessing, Is in celestial beauty drest, And crowned with everlasting rest? There heart with heart and mind with mind, In bonds eternal are entwin'd. I know how bitter portions taste, They're med'cines given, but not to waste. Sweet sweeter seems when bitter's past; Thus health will be secured at last. Fear not, my Sister: God is just, He'll succor those who firmly trust His justice and His mercy too, His grace sufficient is, for you. How blest to be on Zion's ship! All safe at helm, she'll make the trip With all aboard — a mighty host, She'll clear the swells and reach the coast. Unwisely and untimely sought, With evil, blessings may be fraught; 198 POEMS. But in God's chosen time to give, All things, are blessings, we receive. Training the mind to circumstances Our pow'r of happiness enhances. 'Tis not when seas and waves are still, That mariners improve their skill, "We suffer to progress :" 'Tis so, 'Neath mighty pressures, spirits grow. But O, that glorious day of rest, With sweet associations blest! With gratitude my feelings swell That I'm of favored Israel. My heart is full — too full to write- Dear Madam, Sister, Friend, good night. POEMS. 199 TO MRS. HARRIET GRAY. [In July, 1874, Mrs. Harriet Gray, of Peterboro', N. H., 82 years of age, paid a visit to Salt Lake City, Utah. On the morning of her departure from. "Zion," a mes- senger handed her the following lines from the pen of the "Mormon Poetess, " which we publish at the re- quest of many friends.— Ed. of the Peterboro ' (N. H. Transcript.] Fare you well, beloved mother; — While your homeward way you wend, God, our Father, will protect you Safe from dangers that impend. Fare you well, much honored lady, Go in peace and be you blest; In the far off East remember Those who loved you in the West. In the valleys of the mountains, Hearts to God and country true, Will, in holiest bonds of friendship Known on earth, remember you. When you've filled your eaithly mission, And resign your "dust to dust," You will have "abundant entrance Into mansions of the just." Salt Lake City, Aug. 1, 1874. 200 POEMS. TO A PHILANTHROPIST. Most honor' d Sir: I'd fain address my pen To you, a lover of your fellow men, I'll dare presume — I crave your pardon, sir, If, thus presuming, I presume to err. You plead the rights of man; you fain would see All men enjoy the sweets of Liberty. Goodness is greatness, knowledge— power; and thou The best and wisest of your nation now: And while the nation sinks beneath its blight, You, like a constellation, cheer the night. If you can quell the raging ocean's wave, You may, perhaps, your fallen country save; If you can cleanse corruption's growing stream, Hope on— your nation's honor to redeem — Give back our martyr 'd Prophet's life again, And from th' escutcheon wipe that dreadful stain. Your civil pow'rs, your officers of State, On Freedom's shoulders throw a crushing weight; With suicidal acts, they've trampled down Our Charter'd Rights, and God Almighty's frown POEMS. 201 Is resting on them; and the bitter cup They've dealt, they'll drink, they'll use each other up. Though for a while, you may avert the blow, The deed is done which seals their overthrow; The pois'nous canker-worm is gnawing where No skill — no med'cine can the breach repair. What have they done? O blush, humanity! What are they doing? All the world can see. Where is the Banner which your nation boasts? Say, is it waving o'er her warring hosts? Where are the Statesmen who have never swerv'd? And where the Constitution's Rights preserved? Here, in the mountains, 'neath the western sky, Columbia's Banner proudly waves on high; And here are men with souls — men just and true — Men worthy of our noble sires and you : They have preserv'd our sacred Constitution 'Midst fearful odds and cruel persecution. Your noble, gen'rous heart, with pure intent, Would screen the guilty from just punishment. But God is at the helm — the Almighty rules, He, in whose hand the nations are but tools, His kingdom Daniel said would be "set up;" 'Tis here; 'twill swallow other kingdoms up. The seeds of wickedness, the nations grow Within themselves, will work their overthrow; Though, for a season, mercy stays its hand, Justice will have its own— its full demand. 202 POEMS. We've sued for peace, and for our Rights, in vain; Again, we've sought for justice; and again, We've claini'd protection 'neath that lofty spire Your country boasts — 'twas planted by our sires. But now we ask no odds at human hand — In God Almighty's strength, alone, we stand. Honor and Justice, Truth and Liberty Are ours: we're freemen, and henceforth we're free. THE LADIES OF UTAH, To the Ladies of the Tfnited States Camp in a Crusade against the "Mormons." Why are you in these mountains, Expos'd to frosts and snows, Far from your shelt'ring houses— From comfort and repose? Has cruel persecution, With unrelenting hand, Thrust you from home and kindred And from your native land? Have you been mob'd and plunder'd Till you are penniless, POEMS. 203 And then in destitution Driven to the wilderness? No, no; you've join'd a crusade Against the peace of those Driv'n to these distant valleys By cruel murd'rous foes. Amid the dreary desert, Where hideous redmen roam — Where beasts of prey were howling, We've made ourselves a home. We never had intruded As you would now intrude; We've never sought to injure — We've sought for others' good. We came through sore compulsion, And not from wicked choice; We had, in all our sorrow, Heaven's sweet consoling voice. Can woman's heart be callous And made of flint or steel? Perhaps you'll learn to pity, When you are made to feel. Should sickness prey upon you And children cry for bread, With bitter self reproaches You'll rue the path you tread. 204 POEMS. We're forin'd of blood and sinews And flesh, as well as you; And we have hearts composed of As many fibres too. We love with purer feelings Our husbands, children, friends; We've learn 'd to prize the blessings Which God in mercy sends. We have the ancient order To us by prophets given, And here we have the pattern As it exists in heav'n. We're well prepar'd to teach you, And that you may discern, We simply here remind you, You've just commenced to learn. We'd fain from human suff'ring Each barbed arrow draw; But yet self-preservation Is God's and nature's law. The Scriptures are fulfilling — The spoiler's being spoiled; All satan's foul devices 'Gainst Zion will be foil'd. G. S. L. City, Oct. 13, 1857. POEMS. 205 CROSSING THE ATLANTIC. We're on the Minnesota, A ship of " Guion Line," Which boasts her Captain Morgan, The gen'rous, staunch and kind. Amid the heaving waters That form the liquid plain; With four and twenty draft feet The steamer ploughs the main. I'm gazing on the ocean As on the deck I stand, And feel the cooling breezes With which the sails are fanned. By sunlight, star and moonlight, And tranquil evening shade, The ever- varying features Of ocean I've surveyed. At times with restless motion, As if her spirit grieves — As tho' her breast were paining, Her mighty bosom heaves. 206 POEMS. And then, vast undulations, Like the rolling prairies spread; With wave on wave dissolving, With tumbling, dashing tread. Upon the deep, dark billows, Broad, foaming white caps rise, And sprays in dazzling beauty, Shoot upward to the skies. 'Tis now a plain, smooth surface, As tho' in cozy sleep Were wrapped each wave and billow Upon the briny deep. But hark! The Captain orders The furling ev'ry sail; Storm-clouds and head- winds rising Portend a coming gale. Anon all Neptune's furies Are on the steamer's path; We mount the deck to witness The ocean in its wrath. The scene! What pen can write it? What pencil's art could show The wild, terrific grandeur Which reigns around us now? The waving, surging waters, Like battle-armor clash; Tumultuous waves upheaving With foaming fury dash. POEMS. 201 The steamer mounts the billows, Then dips the space below; And bravely presses onward, Tho' reeling to and fro. We're sailing on the ocean With wind and sail and steam; Where views of " terra firma" Are like the poet's dream. The God who made the waters — Who made the solid land, Is ours — our Great Protector, Our life is in His hands. Subservient to His counsel — Confiding in His care — Directed by His wisdom, There's safety everywhere. LONDON. Far, far away from our dear native land, In England's great metropolis we stand; Where art and skill — labor and wealth combine With time's co-operation in design 208 POEMS. Of superstructure's bold and beauteous form, With all varieties of strength and charm. Here massive columns — stately towers, arise, And lift their spires in greetings to the skies: Fine parks and gardens, palaces and halls, With sculptured niches — frescoe-painted walls; Where no expense is spared to beautify, Nor time, nor toil, to captivate the eye. We saw, and viewing, courteously admired The master strokes by Genius' hand inspired. To "New Westminster Palace " we resort, Where the Chief Justice holds his august court; 'Twas then in session, and the Exchequer too— In wig and gown— a grand, imposing view! The House of Lords and Commons too, we saw, But not those grave expounders of the law. With deferential thought we fixed our gaze, There, in the " Prince's Hall," where face to face On either side, on carved projections stood, With features varied as in life's warm blood, White marble statues, from the sculptor's hand, Of British Statesmen, men who could command The power of eloquence— the force of mind, A mighty nation's destinies to bind— Chatham, Pitt, Granville, Walpole, Fox, beside Other's who're justly England's boast and pride. We visited the u Abbey," where repose in state The effigies of many good and great, POEMS. 209 With some whose deeds are well deserving hate. Group'd in the " Poets' Corner," here, we found, With rich, artistic sculpture trophies crown'd, The mem'ries of the Muse's world-renowned. In some compartments where old massive stones Comprise the flooring, lie their mouldering bones, And we with reverential footsteps tread Above the ashes of the illustrious dead. Great London City, mart of wealth and power, Home for the wealthy — charnel for the poor! And here, amid its boasted pomp and pride, Some faithful Soldiers of the Cross reside — A few choice spirits, whom the watchman's care, By humble search, found scatter' d here and there, " Like angels' visits, few and far between," As patient gardeners sep'rate clusters glean. They barter earth 's allurements and device To gain the " Pearl " of great and matchless price, And what to them the honors, pride and show, That perish with their using, here below? Their hopes are high — their noble aims extend Where life and peace and progress never end; Where God's own Kingdom Time's last knell survives, Crowned with the gifts and powers of endless lives. 19 210 POEMS. APOSTROPHE TO JERUSALEM. Thou City with a cherished name, A name in garlands drest, Adorned with ancient sacred fame, As city of the blest. Thy rulers once were mighty men, Thy sons, renowned in war: Thy smiles were sought and courted then By people from afar. A holy Temple, built as God Directed it should be, In which His glory shone abroad, With heavenly majesty; Was great adornment to thy place, And lustre to thy name; With much of grandeur, wealth and grace, To magnify thy fame. The Lord was with thee then, and deigned, In speech well understood, Thro' prophets, by His wisdom trained, To counsel for thy good. Attracted by illustrious fame, As by a ruling star, To study wisdom, people came From other climes afar. POEMS. 211 Thine then, a chosen, favored land, Was crown'd with plenty's smile; The mountains dropped down fatness, and The hillsides wine and oil. And thou wert like a golden gem Upon a nation's brow. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Alas! What art thou now? Degraded, and on every hand, From wisdom all estranged; Thy glory has departed, and All, but thy name, is changed! From God withdrawn — by him forsook— To all intents depraved; Beneath the Turkish iron yoke, Thou long hast been enslaved. Divested of all heavenly rites, Thy crest has fallen low; Around thy walls are squalid sights Of beggary and woe; Thy streets are narrow, filthy lanes — Offensive to the breath ; Thy pools appear like sewer drains, That breed disease and death. No Temple now, that God designed- No church by him approved — No prophet to reveal His mind, By inspiration moved; 212 POEMS. Where once, a royal banner spread, The " Crescent," waving now: A sable wreath is on thy head, And blood upon thy brow. The curse of God those changes wrought, Through crimes the Jews have done, When they his counsels set at naught And crucified His Son. Since then, has retribution's hand Put forth its fearful skill, Upon thy structures and thy land, A destiny to fill. Thy children— seed of Israel, Of God's ''peculiar care," On whom the weight of judgment fell- Are scattered everywhere. ****** * Thy sun has not forever set — God has a great design, And will fulfil His purpose yet, Concerning Palestine. Th' appointed hour will surely come, According to His will, For God, with "Faithful Abraham," His cov'nants to fulfil. Thyself redeemed from deep disgrace Of filth and negligence, These uncouth structures shall give place To taste and elegance. POEMS. 2l£ Thy walls shall be of precious stones- Thy gates, of richest pearl; And on thy tow 'ring battlements Shall Sacred Banners furl; The seed of Jacob then shall dwell In bold security: " More than thy former glory, shall Thy latter glory be." Palestine, March 6, 1873. PERSONIFICATION OF TRUTH, ERROR, ETC, AN EPIC POEM IN FIVE CHAPTERS. Should lofty Genius strike a feeble string? No: In thy presence, Truth, of Truth Fll sing. INTRODUCTION TO PERSONIFICATION. I love the beauties of the vale Where lovely flowrets bloom — I love the fragrance of the gale That dances with perfume. 214 POEMS. I love to watch the vap'ry crowds Those gems that mount the skies — I love to see the summer clouds In mountain form arise. I always love to gaze upon The orb of borrowed light: I love to see the rising sun Disperse the shades of night. Ye limpid lakes — ye purling streams— Ye grottos decked with spars— Ye twilight shades — ye noon-day beams, And ye soft twinkling stars; I love you, for your features smile With nature's sinless charm; But from your sphere, I'll turn awhile To nature's diff' rent form. To beauteous landscape, glen and glade, I bid a short farewell; To wander through the mystic shade Where metaphysics dwell. O'er mental fields, for once, I'll tread, Where feelings are combined; Where thoughts are trained, and passions bred, I'll trace the path of Mind. POEMS. 215 CHAPTER FIRST. Contents.— 27ie parentage of Error— Joy at his birth— His mother discovers his imbecility— Her night visit to Suspicion —Returns and informs her husband— They call a Council — The members of the Council— Deceit makes a proposition — Is sent to Lucifer for means— Returns with success— His mea- sures are adopted— The Council dissolves— Duplicity's feint for the public benefit, etc. The chronicles of other times record The veritable facts, that Prejudice And Ignorance were both betroth'd at birth, And that their births were simultaneous. They early wedded, and their nuptial tie, With birth of Error, joyously was crowned. While yet an infant: ere his tongue had learned The childish prattle, or his puny hand The potent grasp, young Error's fame had spread Thro' out the mental realm; and thousands sang In mellow strains, the praises of the child. Long live the parents, and long live the son. From tongue to tongue, reverberating spread, And fill'd the acme of devoted hearts. A crowd promiscuous, to the cradled child Their willing def'rence proffered; while those skilled In astrological prophetic lore, Predicted that in time not far remote, He'd wear the crown — the royal sceptre sway And hold the destinies of earth and heav'n. 216 POEMS. They, to immortal Mars, his lineage traced— Extol'd the child, and blest the ruling stars. 'Twas more than bliss (if wild enthusiasm Can more bestow), the mother's bosom fill'd, While she officiously each real want, And want imaginary too, supplied. Not so with Prejudice: His stable soul, Scorning the petty flights of frantic joy, On principle undeviating, turned. Pleased with the customs in his childhood taught— Calm, settled and dispassionate; but yet, None drank more deeply of the gen'ral joy Than Prejudice: and what the scribes foretold, None with intenser int'rest heard, than he. The prospect of his darling Error's fame, Like a strong magic, superhuman charm, On his inflexible corporeal frame, Its mighty all transforming pow'r displayed. His nerves so much like massy bars become, His grasp was not unlike the grasp of death. His meagre form invulnerable grew, All but his eyes. Time, with the parents, moved With pace accelerated, while they watch 'd, Caress'd and dandled their beloved son. But yet, since nature's doom is fixed, that pain And pleasure ever shall go hand in hand, And thus, by turns, deal out their measured draughts, Or sometimes mingle in the tender 'd bowl; POEMS. 217 Just so anxiety filled up the space, If space remained in those fond parents' hearts, For Error could not walk without the aid Of both his parents to support his frame. Paternal love, dame nature's kindly gift To succor weakness and deformity; Had someway — how or why, it matters not: His sad defects from curious gazers, screen'd, But not from all. Maternal tenderness, That potent, most immutable of bonds — The most undeviating charm — a charm Which is by circumstances seldom warp'd; To fearless energies moved Ignorance' soul: And getting softly up one dismal night — Cautious, lest she should waken Prejudice, She crept away as slyly as the still Low breath of night, thro' windings intricate, To that dark, moody cave, where far and wide, The famed Suspicion bends his churlish bow. "Thou'rt welcome, matron," old Suspicion said, "Come in: but pray, now in the depth of night, What could have brought you here? What ails the child? Then, looking thro' his old perspective tube, He said, "Ah now I see— Young Error is infirm, And there's great danger too, not far ahead: For in the distance now, I see the brave Young Truth, is gaining ground— he now ascends Yon hill. Conquest's insignia, amply lie 20 218 POEMS. Bestrown around him; and 'twill not be strange, If he the right of empire shall dispute, At no far distant day, with your dear son. Was Error's strength half equal to his size, Truth might in vain attempt to thwart his pow'r. Take potent measures now, without delay, And pray our guardian gods to bless the means: Once get your son enthron'd, and danger's past." Poor Ign'rance, trembling like the aspen leaf, Arose and bade good night. "Excuse my haste, For morning shall not put her twilight forth, Nor spread a beam, till something is devis'd For my decrepid boy." She clos'd the door And that was all of thought that pass'd her soul, Till at her husband's bedside she called ouc, "My dear, awake!" "Where hast thou been, my love, Thou art the soul of life to me; and sleep Had not sat sweetly on my dropping lids, Had I but dream'd that you were far away. Why so disturb'd? Have evil spirits been, Like night's foul demons, robbing thee of rest? Thy throbbing heart and quickly beating pulse Alarm me." "Rise and I will tell thee all," Said Ignorance, with a suppressed sigh. "Last eve, as our dear child between us sat, And as I gaz'd upon his darling face— His placid eye with love's transcendent glance POEMS. 219 So fully fraught; and then his massy form, Bending in mild submission low; bespoke At once a soul so dutiful — so meek, And so affectionate; my heart was full: And then I thought, though diligently, we Have ev'ry effort tried t 'increase his strength; His muscles yet are like the liquid stream. These thoughts compress'd my head, e'en while Upon the nightly pillow I reclined: I then got stilly from thy side, and down To old Suspicion's dell, with timeless haste I ran; that if perchance, he might the means Devise in our behalf. But happier far, For me, if kind Suspicion's dismal glen I never chanc'd to find, unless ere long, The means — the antidote is found, that will Give Error strength, and w^ard impending ills. I do not speak of this to grieve thy heart: Forever in my bosom should it lie Conceal'd, and save your heart the bitter pang. 'Tis better, if we can escape the ill, To feel the dread. Suspicion said to me That what is done, cannot be done too soon : For there's one Truth, a bold, aspiring lad, That come, perhaps from some untutor'd race; Is making valiant conquests just below That cloud-top'd hill, which forms the line between Investigation's vastly wide domains, And the possessions of Stupidity. He's pushing on this way, a rapid march: 220 POEMS. No doubt intending to obtain the crown — To banish Error, or to stamp his name With marks of infamy indelibly." Ere Ignorance had clos'd this hurried speech, Her partner, Prejudice, had clad himself, And seated in his easy chair — his arms Were folded on his breast, and Ignorance Had knelt before him; when the little blaze, That tremor-like, above the embers rose; Darted a ray across his phiz, and then She saw upon his check, the stranger tear: For Prejudice had never wept till then. "My dear, it is no time lor weeping now: Tears never sav'd a kingdom— we must up And stir ourselves, for 'tis the gen'ral wish Our son should get the crown." ' 'Yes, yes my love," Said Prejudice, half rising from his seat— "We'll have a Council call'd, of our best friends, Who shall assemble ere the morning dawns, In some deep, private place, that none may know How stern Necessity inspires our haste. For many, tho' they wish us well, and pray For Error's welfare; should they know his case, Would be no better friends than we should need." Then, taking down his little trump, he gave The special call that old Stupidity Was prompt to obey: for in his care alone They left the child whene'er they went abroad. Stupidity was their peculiar friend — They had attach 'd him to their interest POEMS. 221 At Error's birth: and many times he's sat From one day's dawn until another's close, Beside the fav'rite child. And now, as quick As thought can move upon perception's glance, He comes, and on his long-accustom'd mat; Without a question, wherefore? why? or what? With due composure, seats himself. It was That quiet, calm, indifference of soul, That constituted his congenial trait. 'Twas midnight. — Darkness, thick as ever fell On Lapland's soil, scowl'd sullenly around, When those fond parents hurried from their home. Fell darkness was no cause of dread to them — And midnight but a spur to urge them on. Sure, nothing will buoy up the soul so long, Amid perplexing scenes, as hope and fear; And there's no prompter like Necessity; For Time had barely pass'd his midnight watch, Before the chosen friends had got the word In urgent haste, and had assembled too. Choice ones they were, and all of good repute — The highest dignitaries in the land — Of whom, was sober Superstition — grave, Sedate, and some inclin'd to be austere. The wise Tradition, ven'rable with age Was there. He'd won the hearts of all, in youth, Until his influence was like the tall, Strong posts, which Sampson level'd when he slew The multitudes, and perish'din the midst. 222 poems. He had been thro' the wars of olden times — Fatigue; and then so many years bad pass'd Around his head; a snowy whiteness ting'd His locks, which wav'd in graceful dignity: He look'd so wise and sanctimonious, His words were unequivocally law. Of equal rank, and not a distant kin To him, was Party-zeal. The holy fire Of patriotism fill'd his ardeut soul: The welfare of his country was his best — His only claim 'd inheritance; and he Had sworn to advocate it, right or wrong. Tho' nature had, in some sly prank of hers, Robb'd him of his corporeal sight; still he Retain' d his mental vision quite intense — He held the office of Chief Magistrate. Yes, these, and many more of kindred blood, Were to the famous Council call'd: and each Submitted to the oath of secrecy, Which was administer'd by Party-zeal. The place selected, was a mystic maze, Where no nice, scrutinizing ken could reach; Where all were seated in a still surprise That well comported with the silence of The dark, dark night that spread its vail around. Poor Error's sad condition was to all Distressing news, of which, not one before, Except Suspicion, had presentiments. Blind Party-zeal arose :Their eager eyes At once, instinctively were fix'd on him, poems. 223 Like the expectant infant's watchful look, That hangs upon the mother's countenance; While he proceeded thus: "Dearly belov'd, You know I am not privileg'd to read The feelings of your bosoms, in your looks, — But yet I feel within my soul, that all Join, with one int'rest, in the common cause. You truly know that I have ever been A faithful servant of this commonwealth; And with the greatest pleasure would I be A servant still: And this I would propose: That whosoever will devise the means Effectual, for the object now in view, Shall be awarded with the second place In rank of all imperial dignities — To be ensur'd hereditary right, As soon as Error shall obtain the crown. If you approve the plan, adopt it soon — Let not a moment pass inertly by, That has great consequences pending on." The motion of old Party-zeal, was heard With gladness; for in such a doubtful case, No sacrifice could be too great; and no Inducement of reward, be rais'd too high. An instrument was drawn in legal form, Which would secure the honorary grant; To which they severally subscrib'd. Then all Was still as the low mansions of the dead: 224 POEMS. None dar'd— none wish'd to speak, lest hapless he Should interrupt some half-way moulded scheme. Thus for the space of two well measur'd hours, The members of the Council sat. The faint, Blue twilight of the morning had begun To play around them, when Deceit arose. "My friends," said he, "give audience: I've a plan That will, if promptly executed, meet The present crisis. I would gladly spare Your feelings friends; but this is not a time For flattery — and therefore be assur'd There's nothing kept in Hades, Earth, or Heav'n, That would empower our young Prince to act When unsupported by his parents' aid. Yet if they will submit (submit they must, For 'tis the only hope) to be confin'd In secrecy forever at his side; I'll get the cloak my royal father wore With such success to Eden's garden, when He gave the happy pair forbidden fruit. It is constructed with expansive pow'rs Which might extend it to a monstrous size: And then 'tis of a texture so unlike All else: it suits all seasons of the year — All business, all occasions, and all climes. 'Twould clasp around young Error's neck, and hang- In such nice, intricately plaited folds; That Prejudice and Ignorance might stand Beneath, on either side, and skillfully Bear him erect, in spite of common sense." poems. 225 "Go then," said Prejudice, "we'll have it tried. While you are absent, Ignorance and I Will go and have our son in waiting here." "Make haste," said Party -zeal, in a low tone, To young Formality; "provide a steed, And mount Deceit, and speed him on his way." No sooner said than done. Then like a swift Skylark, they saw him flit across the white Aerial plains, and like a little speck, Almost invisible, that floats upon The moving air; they saw him sink beneath The broad horizon's low, encircling arch; Onward he flies, tho' far beyond the reach Of other ken than that of spirits wild, That are let loose abroad the airy fields Of false imagination. Passing through Black misty glens of vapors volatile, And miry pits where fell confusion hiss'd; At length he reach 'd the habitation of The great, notorious Lucifer. Deceit Was second son to his dark majesty, Who was enraptur'd to embrace once more His well beloved son; and anxious too, To hear, thro' him, the present state of things In the new world: he deeply felt for them — Being a colony he planted there. Long, long ago— a puny thing at first, 226 poems. But he had sent them annual supplies; And had transfer'd to them, the Government, With the advice that they should rear a king. 'Twas Lucifer that whisper'd to the scribes And the astrologers, at Error's birth, That he should hold the reins of Government. When the infernal monarch heard Deceit Explain the business of his morning ride, He smiled approval to the wily scheme. Then giving him the cloak, and bidding him Good speed; he sent him on his way. Deceit Retrod the dubious track — when gazing still, The anxious members of the Council spied, Amidst the softly gliding, vap'ry clouds, A little something fast approximate, Until within the province of their sight: When lo! the hero came. Error was there In readiness; for it was then mid-day. The steed selected for the champion's use Was Popularity— surefooted, he Was much the safest beast in all the realm, To journey on an unfrequented way; His pace was easy to the rider, too. "Thou'rt welcome back again," said Party-zeal: As bold Deceit dismounted, and the kind Formality secur'd the gorgeous reins: "You've been successful too— I gladly see poems. 227 The precious cloak is folded on your arm. Well you have fairly, altho' cheaply won For you an everlasting rank." "Stay, stay," Said Superstition, " 'tis a heinous sin To talk of such unhallow'd trifles now: But try the garment, brave Deceit, and see Whether 'twill answer the design or not." His tone inspir'd a reverential awe; For e'en his motions were imperative; And they all felt that Party-zeal had sinn'd: So they look'd sadly grave, to make amends. On Error's shoulders, then the cloak was hung While, sire and mother stood beneath each arm. Achilles' armor did not fit so well His fair Patroclus, as this fitted all. Joyful to find the scheme complete; some gave A shout— and even Superstition smil'd, And bowing down to Error, wish'd him peace, And an immortal reign. Declining day Began to deck itself in sable shades, Reminding them of home. Accordingly, When they had sev 'rally agreed to spread The word that Prejudice and Ignorance Had died on yesternight; and they had been To the performance of the obsequies — That the bereaved Error was array'd In mourning deep; they left the wild recess — Dispersing to their sev'ral homes, except 228 POEMS. Duplicity, who secretly threw up, Beneath the supple willow's boughs, two mounds, Of equal length and side by side: and there The population ran with pious zeal, To pay to the departed ones, their last, Best honors; and to worship at their shrines. For soon the tidings, like the fiercest gale That sinks the forest low, had reach' d their ears, And young Credulity pronounc'd it true. We'll leave them now in this promiscuous scene — Some sad — some feigning sadness— deeply all Are sympathizing in th' expected joy, Awaiting Error's coronation day: And we will take a passing view beyond That long, wild, angling, cloud-top 'd hill— that mount, Which rises on the other side of those Extensive, smooth, and barren plains, which were, And are, life-leas'd to old Stupidity. poems. 229 CHAPTER SECOND. Contents.-— Conversation between Investigation and Candor concerning the courtship of Inquiry and Knowledge — In- quiry obtains consent — Their nuptials — Inquiry's narrative —Birth of Truth— His prospects— The infant Experience - His predecessor's visit to the parents— Conversation — His bequest— Departure, etc. "You know, dear wife," Investigation said To his beloved Candor, as they walked Abroad one moonlight eve, "that noble lad, Surnamed Inquiry, frequently has spent The social hour with us, and have we not Observed, when our fair daughter, Knowledge conies, Unconsciously she draws him to her side, While hand in hand they tread the flow'ry walks Supremely happy in a mutual love? Well, yesternight, as he and I, alone Beside the open window sat and gazed Upon the clear full moon that spreads her beams And hides the unassuming stars; my mind Strayed far away in those deep labyrinths That twine and intertwine like gilded clouds Around creation's folded mysteries. But other thoughts possess'd Inquiry's brain. He whisper'd in my ear that he would fain Make one request, and could not be denied. Then said, most bashfully, 'For Knowledge, Sir, I ask: I love her, and would sacrifice 230 POEMS. My all, if on no other terms, I could The purchase make, and take her to myself.' In earnestness of soul, he'd lowly bow'd Upon his knees. I told him, I might grant His noble wish, but must consult thee first." "Ah, yes," said Candor, for her gentle heart Was frank and open, as the light of noon Without a cloud: "I knew long time ago That his affections were intently fix'd Upon our child; and often have I turned Aside, to hide the voluntary smile, As I beheld how modestly she shunn'd His fond pursuit and kind caressing tones To her, till he grew sociable with us. Inquiry was so shy of us at first, I even thought 'twas his intent to steal Fair Knowledge off and never ask consent. However that might be, she cautiously Refused attentions proffered her, until Her parents had received a due respect; And just so fast as he grew intimate With us; so fast she laid aside her cold And distant mien, and grew affectionate. He truly is a youth of promise, and He bears so great resemblance to thyself, I think him worthy of her; and I know If he does not abuse her, she will prove A treasure richer far than golden gems." Then Candor ask'd her lord's consent, to give Permission to the sage Experience; POEMS. 231 And off he sped to let Inquiry know That kind Investigation and his spouse, Would have him wed the idol of his heart. They, who have felt the close tormenting chain Of doubtful hope; and seen it terminate In the possession of their dearest wish; Know best, how young Inquiry felt at the Reception of the joyful news. He soon Attir'd himself to fit the bridal hour: A plain, full suit, he chose, for, such, he knew Would better please Investigation's eye, Than splendid robes and dazzling ornaments. While he made ready, Perseverance got The coach equip'd; for Perseverance had Attended him as coachman, always when He paid his visits to his love: Tho' once, He undertook the tour with Indolence, But then he lost his way, and wander'd home. All things in readiness— Inquiry took His customary seat with throbbing heart; And bade the coachman drive and "tarry not In all the plain,' ' nor heed the craggy steeps, Nor swelling streams. Delighted Knowledge saw The coach arrive; for on that morning she Had deck'd herself for him, with richest pearls. She look'd most fair; and in her sparkling eyes 232 poems. There was a glow so full of meaning, she Might well have won an angel's love. With speed Like thought, Inquiry left the carriage seat, And at Investigation's feet, he bow'd, Then press'd a kiss on gentle Candor's hand, But only gave a smile to her he lov'd; For she was not his own, and he had learn'd Ere then, that he must pluck the flow'r before He quaff' d its fragrancy. The bridal hour Arriv'd, but brought with it no pompous show: And no vain, jesting crowd assembled there. Intelligence politely notified A few associates, and seated them Genteelly in the spacious drawing room; And Candor saw Inquiry plac'd, and then Investigation led the bride to him— Squire Application rose, and legally Perform 'd the sacred rite. The service o'er — The fair Complacency serv'd round the treat. In golden cups, nature's pure bev'rage flow'd; While platters loaded with the choicest fruits; And every rich variety of Art, By Diligence and Industry prepar'd; In lib'ral hospitality were spread; And all, with cheerfulness, partook of a Rich nuptial feast, while Affability, In sweetest strains, his liveliest harp attun'd. poems. 233 "My children," said Investigation, to The wedded pair, when all the guests were gone: "It is our wish that you should not Depart from us. I've wide, extensive fields- Fine verdant plains, and forests spreading far, And rich, unfathom'd mines; All, all shall be At your command, provided you remain. You both are young, and Knowledge needs, as yet, A mother's care. Our old Experience Is settled here, and he is vastly rich In all the precious stones of ancient use — 'Twould be his happiness to serve you here." "O how shall I repay thy kindness, Sir," The son replied: "Thanks seem too mean a gift To offer now; but ever will I be A dutious, faithful child. Thou knowest well The colony in yon adjacent realm; And my possessions lay so nearly by, That intercourse with the inhabitants Was unavoidable : Though had I known Them better at the first, I never would Have suffer'd such repeated wrongs." "What wrongs?" Inquir'd Investigation. "Let me hear. They've often tried their black, infernal tricks On me: but I've chastis'd them sorely and They now seem weary of their base pursuit." "My hardy servant, Perseverance, is A bold, courageous fellow, otherwise I heartily believe, I never should Have press'd this lovely jewel to my heart, 21 234 poems. Or call'd her mine," Inquiry said; "for all The machinations mischief could invent, I've had to stem. Suspicion does profess To tell deep hidden things : At any rate, Those round about him, intimated long Ago that Knowledge had bewitch'd my heart; And ever since, they've throng'd my house by day, And pillag'd my possessions in the night. Such proffer'd friendship hung upon their lips, They stole away my richest goods, before I could believe their treachery. Oft times Blind Party-zeal has cjunseled me, with tears; And warn'd me to beware of you; and told Such frightful tales— how you tormented all That ever come, till they grew idiots: I really was afraid of thee. E'en old Deceit has spent whole weeks convincing me That thy fair daughter, Knowledge, was a sheer Impostor — thdt the sage Tradition had The genuine fair; and thine was but a proud Disdainful thing. Well, in suspense I went And ask'd Tradition. 'Yes,' he said; but did Not introduce her, though I waited long. He recommended Credence as a match Best fitting me. He said she was so mild, So pleasant, tame, and peaceable, that one Might spend a life more quietly with her, Than any lass he knew. And more than that; If I'd accept of her, he'd make me heir To his estate. His riches are immense— His landed titles of anterior date, POEMS. 235 Would have supported me in luxury And idleness. I've some acquaintance with Miss Credence— She's a pleasant thing indeed; But she's decidedly too tame for me, For ev'ry passing stranger might enjoy Her charms in common with myself. I hate A soul so spiritless. The influence Those beings held o'er me, has cost me much; Distancing me from Candor and thyself — And Knowledge was so cold to me, I 'gan To think, what Superstition said, was true. He told me Knowledge was of birth too high For me to gain; and by persisting on, I should heap endless' curses on my head. But Perseverance urg'd me still to try My fortune here; and many times he drove, My carriage thro' thick show'rs of missiles, thrown By their light troops that scouted round." Thus clos'd Inquiry's narrative. And with a fine Refreshing walk among the fragrant flow'rs That spread their sweetness out, as if t' atone For the departure of the setting sun; 9 They clos'd the wedding day. O, who would not Have felt the heavy weight of sadness, if 236 poems. Forbidden to assemble oft with this Delightful group, as time pursued its course, And seasons pass'd most pleasantly away? But when the gracious Spirit bless 'd them with A son, the lovely Truth, so beautiful; To grace their board; methinks an angel might Have heav'd a sigh of sorrow, if debar'd The satisfaction of commingling there. For Truth bore in his infant countenance The impress of Divinity; and the Clear light of morning seem'd made up of shades Of mingled brown, contrasted with the pure Bright beams that emanated from his eye: And he was like a constellation in Inquiry's view; whose spirit was enlarg'd; And while he lov'd his son to ecstacy, His fond esteem for Knowledge lessen'd not— She was still more belov'd on Truth's account. One evening twilight, when the noble pair * Were seated side by side, and with sweet smiles And mutual love, caress'd the cherub child; Inquiry said, to his fair consort, thus: "My love, e'er since the birth-day of our own Angelic Truth, maternal watchfulness, Like a delightful spell that never seeks Relief from fond solicitude, has bound Thee gently to Ms cradled infancy, E'en nearer than myself. Hast thou observ'd Amidst thy constant watchings, round his head, poems. 237 A halo of transcendent brightness play, With grandeur greater than the eye could scan?" "O yes, and truly long I've wish'd to join With thee, my spouse, in converse sweet upon This topic; for it has engross' d my mind By day and night. I've even dar'd to think Our child of a celestial origin, Sent here a noble purpose to fulfil; For at his birth, bright spirits from the skies Were hov'ring round about. I've often seen His features glow with dazzling radiance, and His eyes directed upward with intense And fix'd expression, and I truly think He was communing with the upper world. Dost thou not well remember when my sire, With deep-ton 'd fervor, has commented on Those records of anterior date, which Time Has left in his possession — how he oft rehears 'd Tales of deep int'rest, when in olden times A conduit, unobstructed with dark clouds Of wickedness, or sightless fogs of doubt; Was free and open 'twixt the upper skies And this our lowdy residence: And then, Bright spirits often mingled with our race." "Yes," said Inquiry — "Change will never blot From the broad page of my remembrance, those Ecstatic thoughts my swelling bosom thrill 'd, When thy lov'd Sire, Investigation, sketch'd The splendid sceneries of ages past: 238 poems. And now my spirit burns within me, when I look with though tfulness upon the form Of our beloved little one; and think He's sent to us, again to usher in A brilliant scene of things, surpassing all The records have ascrib'd to olden times." The joyous soul of Knowledge, sparkled in Her eye, as her loved consort finished thus, Their evening colloquy. Weeks congregated into months, and months Roll'd up the year. Young Truth, with placid look, Was gazing on the smiling countenance Of his late welcom'd brother. Morn, fair morn Had just spread forth her earliest, faintest ray Abroad the canopy of nature, when Inquiry whisper'd to his spouse; as both Sat most affectionately by the side Of Truth and the then nameless one: "My love, A knock is at the gate— who should intrude Upon the sacred quietude of this First dawn of day?" He had no sooner clos'd His query, than the porter usher'd in Experience, the aged fav'rite of The generation just gone by. "I Your pardon, youthful friends," said he, "for this Untimely call. Business like mine, demands poems. 239 An hour that shall precede the presence of The quizzing multitude. I'd fain confer With you, upon a subject which concerns Yourselves not only; but will much affect The public weal. Last night, ere twilight down, The keen, bright-eyed Discernment, who resides Across the way; call'd at my residence, And in her usual, shrewd, prophetic style, Discours'd to me about your elder son: Saying that his proud destiny ordain 'd For him to reach the highest summit of Yon lofty hill, whose tow'ring eminence, Projects above the influence of the clouds— That he shall be triumphantly enthron'd In that palladium of honor, while Its rich, emblazon'd spires superbly wave High o'er bhe brightest of the orbs above. Well, as upon my sleepless couch I lay; I ponder'd o'er those things, and ponder'd too About myself— how illy I appear'd, To bear companionship with Truth in such A splendid, bold career. My features are Too earthly, and my voice too tremulous — My form uncouth, too freely savors of The carnal mould. Train'd from my early youth In old Tradition's school; and often class'd With reckless Ignorance; my mind receiv'd An impulse that full often downward tends — My garments are too much encumber'd with The useless trappings of the ages past! 240 POEMS. I therefore never shall aspire to tread An upward course of equal height with you: But if my name you will confer upon Your younger son; I will bequeath to you, For him, and for the benefit of all The future advocates of Truth; the whole Of my estate, comprising all the spoils Of conquests won, and treasures gather'd up By centuries of toil; and sparkling gems From deep sequester 'd mines; brought forth by the Strong burthen-bearer, concentrated Thought. Thus I'll dispose of my effects: and then • In person I will cheerfully retire Anon, and seek a peaceful quietus Down in Oblivion's glen, and seat myself Beside the purling streams, where silently Lethe's cool waters, soft and gently flow. Beneath the care of Knowledge—by the side Of Truth, the young Experience will grow Like a young plant beside the water brooks — His features will like polish'd gems appear, And light and glory shine upon his path." The parents, grateful for the gen'rous flow Of patriotism, the sage Experience So frankly proffer 'd them, return 'd their thanks With mutual promise that the infant should Henceforward, to his mem'ry, bear his name. "But," said Experience, "one subject more Demands a prompt attention. Contrast is The talisman of pure Intelligence; POEMS. 241 Therefore my blooming namesake's features, must, From time to time, in bold comparison, Be shown with my pale, shadowy countenance. It little will avail, altho' his form Should grow as fair as Lebanon, and rise As high as her tall cedars, should it not Occasionally be in contrast plac'd With my low, meagre personage.' ' "Indeed," Said Knowledge, "it is truly so: but then, It seems thou hast thy purpose fix'd, to hide Thyself forever in obscurity." "Prompt to your service," said the aged one, "I'll hold myself in constant readiness, And when the friends of Truth shall call With clear, sonorous voice; with swiftness of The lightning's flash, or like a spirit, sent From nether spheres remote; I will come forth And stand beside the young Experience, To aid you in your future struggles with The neighb'ring Commonwealth." "What struggles, pray?" Inquiry said, with keen solicitude. " 'Tis not my province to prognosticate In things to come," replied Experience. "Last night, Discernment bid me take one peep Ahead, thro' her perspective tube; else I Had never made this morning call. I saw That youngster of gigantic stature, who Is highly doated on in yonder realm; 22 242 POEMS. Aspire to be the hero of his clan, And monarch of surrounding realms, But my Weak vision could not circumscribe those things; And my faint elocution can't describe E'en what I plainly saw. Discernment will Instruct you freely in those mysteries: Meantime, be sure from what I saw and heard, That nothing augurs harm to yours and you." Then, after having made the said transfer Of Goods and Chatties, Lands and Tenements; The Sage, with an affectionate farewell, Took his departure for the "Land of Nod." CHAPTER THIRD. Contents.-— T/ie scene opens with the sound of war— Surprise of young Experience— The manner of Truth composes him— Description of Truth — Investigation musters his forces — The storm— The friends of Truth assemble around his standard — The storm subsides— Inquiry goes forth to ascertain its effect— Tlie cause of the storm— Description of Falsehood by Investigation— The group disperses— The nativity of Truth— His mission— His visit to the mountain arbor in company with Experience— Invocation— A seraph meets them— His instructions and departure— Serenade. Like the loud crash of coming tempest, when Its furious blast lays low the forest pride; And like the roar of far-off thunder peals poems. 243 Upon the ear of midnight; came the sound Of war. 'Tvvas not a war of elements — 'Twas not a war of winds and waves— a strife Of nature, when her laws in contact wage A furious contest; seeming to forget Th' eternal chain that binds varieties, And of ten thousand times ten thousand; forms One great — one grand, consolidated whole. No; 'twas a warfare, of an origin Long, long anterior to the earliest tread Of Time upon Earth's checker'd carpeting; 'Twixt Truth and Error: and relentlessly; Though oft the scene is chang'd from place to place- Although the scenery is oft renewed; The never ending contest rages yet. The young Experience had not grown up To manhood, ere the hoarse, discordant sound Of war, fell on his unaccustom'd ear; And with its thunders, chas'd beyond his ken, Those fair illusions of refin'd repose, His cradled dreams had on his vision sketch 'd. A momentary shade came o'er his brow At first; but soon the shadow was dispel'd By the commanding countenance of Truth, Who had become a youth of stature fine — Of mein majestic as the tow 'ring fir That rears its disk amid the forest wild. He spoke a pure— a perfect dialect, And one unlike to that in common use; Fraught with a mild, yet bold austerity — Such as his enemies could never brook. 244 POEMS. To prove that Truth had enemies, is but To prove that no existence ever could Be known as such, without its opposite— That contrast is Creation's pulse — her great Thermometer of being — her grand scale, In which to illustrate realities. Truth knew no fear; and the war-clarion's sound Most surely would have fall'n upon his ear Like the sweet music of the summer breeze; Had its shrill notes but come to summon him To honorable war; where strife with strife Was openly and honorably wag'd — A contest where e'en fierce hostility Descended not to measures basely mean — Where "sword with sword— arm or with armor join 'd," With purpose noble and a noble foe. Investigation heard the rude alarm, And with a purpos'd aim to place himself In the proud front of battle; marshalling His gathering hosts, prepar'd to meet the fight. Candor essay 'd to bear him company: For to her noble lord, her gentle heart As closely clung, as twines the ivy round The sturdy oak; and in her constant care For him, she heeded not what might befall Herself, e'en though oppos'd to hostile foes. But then the beardless boy, Experience Essay'd to urge the impropriety poems. 245 For one so gentle, delicate, and fair, To dare presume to stem the tide of war. With deeply chasten'd thought, and looks abash 'd — Feeling as virtuous woman ever feels When fearful lest her deep solicitude Has borne her o'er the line that bounds her sphere; Candor retir'd nor sought the scene of strife. Before the shrill, reverberating sound, The thrilling peal of "march," had gone abroad — While many hearts dilated— many a pulse With an accelerated motion beat With hope, forvict'ry's crested diadem; Lo, on a sudden, from th' horizon's disk Which mantles o'er the fields of Prejudice; A cloud, of fearful import, black as night Appears where darkness holds her revelries Beneath the hidden stars: by boist'rous gales Impel'd, and rife with blasting thunderbolts That seem'd to shake creation's self; roll'd on, And strew 'd unsparingly the with 'ring force Of its tremendous howl! It was mid-day, But scarce a solitary beam of light, Which emanated from the glorious orb On high, could penetrate the low'ring cloud Of storm, that hid the canopy above; Except where Truth had riveted his stand, And stood immovable. Where he had fix'd His pedestal and rear'd his standard — there 246 poems. His ensign wav'd on high, and fearlessly Defied a storm that mock'd the elements, And in commotion wrapt the world abroad. There, there was light, in spite of all the wild, Chaotic darkness rudely howling round. T' escape, if possible, unscath'd amid The coming blast; as if by instinct drawn; Investigation's military host, And their associating kindred friends, With nimble footsteps gather'd 'round the spire Of the inflexible and dauntless Truth. At length the storm, with all its noise, assuag'd, And Hope's celestial rays diffus'd abroad Her cheering influence o'er the scenery; While a commingling beam of radiance shone From the bright countenance of noble Truth. Investigation sent Inquiry forth To ascertain whatever the effect — If aught of consequence— or good or ill. Some traces had remain'd, but they were few, And small, compar'd with the great tumult and The noise that rag'd abroad. Some "hangers on," Who stood as advocates for Truth, when all Was sunshine, calm, and clear; but when the cloud Arose; ran off, like goats affrighted, to The neighb'ring province. Others, too, Who previously had stood erect; bow'd down Beneath the weight of atmosphere— condens'd With wild Confusion's hiss; but when the storm POEMS. 247 Pass'd by, they soon regain'd their former height, And proper attitude. But many were Of such unyielding texture, and so near Allied to Truth; and to his standard had Adher'd so close; they laugh VI amid the storm: A storm, which, though it baffled nature, had Much less to do with nature than with art; As was discover'd near that evening's close, Whose twilight introduc'd itself upon A large, and smiling circle, seated round The threshold of Inquiry; talking o'er Such thoughts as the occasion might inspire: When eagle-eyed Discernment, rising up; Address'd the audience thus: "Beloved friends Amid your conversations I have sat As mutely as a soulless thing should sit, Beneath the sound of tall Intelligence, Prompted by Erudition's polish 'd wand. Mine is a silent, not an idle muse; My thoughts have been abroad— My studious mind, So w6nt to search the lowest depths, and climb To uppei heights, has been conversing with The laws of clouds and storms; and I have found The ruling cause, and corresponding means, Producing the tornado, which, to-day, Caus'd our unlook'd for interruption, and Now clothes the skies in lurid mistiness. My mind has trac'd its origin. It rose In yonder province. There's a fruitful forge, Where storms, and clouds, and all that sort of thing, 248 poems. Are freely manufactured. 'Tis a forge, According to the tales of fabled times; Not all unlike to that which Vulcan us'd On Lemnos' Isle, in casting thunderbolts For his great father, Jupiter. The forge From which tumultous troubles come to us, Is located in the vicinity Of famous Error, son of Ignorance And Prejudice. It is committed to The faithful care of Bigotry: and the Whole operation is perform' d by one Whose vigilance and persevering skill Can never be surpass'd. Scandal, and lies, Detraction, slander, vile abuse, and all That catalogue of black ingredients, Are the constituent materials — The compound base, of his infernal works.'' Inquiry then arose, and earnestly Begg'd old Investigation to declare The name of that great artisan of storms; Saying, "If we can trace the monster out; We'll spoil his works, and overthrow the cause Of those invet'rate enemies of Truth." "That famous champion, is Falsehood," said Investigation. "It will be in vain To hope for his destruction; for his soul Is made invulnerable, by the great Founder oi that rude province, Lucifer; Who has bequeath'd it for the benefit, poems. 249 Use, and behoof of those inhabitants, So long as they, their efforts shall combine In the support of Error. Though his form Should be prostrated, and destroy 'd; his soul, Still extant Phcenix-like, would mould itself Another body, and perchance a shape Some differing from the last, for its abode: But still it would survive, and still pursue, In form, whatever circumstance might choose; His nature-woven— his instinctive trade — That fiendish art, by safari's self, inspir'd. And therefore, fruitless will all efforts prove, To clear from yon horizon, those thick mists Of darkness, which obstruct the trav'ler's view; While Prejudice and Ignorance remain. The information from Discernment gain'd, Will aid in future movements, which we may Devise in operations form'd to quell Hostilities, which formidable grow, And day by day producing fresh annoy. Henceforth, to meet dishonorable foes On honorable terms, we need not hope; But we must keep in warlike readiness; Lest Error take us unawares; and we, In recklessness, unarm'd, to contest drawn; Should prove unvaliant in the cause of Truth." Thus clos'd Investigation's speech. The day Was folding on the crest of midnight, its Expanded robe — the interesting group Dispers'd, each to his dwelling: musingly 250 POEMS. Some went, and some in converse cheer'ly join'd Upon the curious termination of The bold campaign, to which that morning's dawn Had call'd them forth; with only Falsehood's blast, Without the glory and the pomp of war. Far, far above the lofty, tow'ring peak Of that high mountain, o'er whose noble base, Truth's mighty banner wav'd most gracefully; Is an immortal citadel of Fame— The bright palladium of Honor — form'd By skill supernal and by higher pow'r Than earthly — pois'd securely far above The reach of clashing elements — beyond The scathing hand of Time's impetuous change. 'Tis Truth's eternal mansion — the abode Of his nativity — the glorious crown Of that immortal — that celestial sphere, Whence the Great Spirit, the high Ruler of The worlds on high; commission'd him to tread The courts below — t' emblazon Earth — to give To Time, an everlasting consequence — To place substantially on nature's brow, Imperishable gems — to gather out From human life's impervious labyrinths Of mixture and confusion; every thing Of noble mien: all, all that dare confront The sway of Error: and to overthrow All base dominions, and to reinstate Usurp'd authorities — to rally round His spire, a true, high-aiming, faithful band, POEMS. 251 And train them for his native citadel: To mark ttie way, and lead them upward to That splendid port — that palace of Renown, Beyond the portals of Eternity. Such was his royal mission, and he fear'd No nether pow'rs, with forces all combin'd; For his sweet intercourse with hosts that dwelt In realms of light, was free and unrestrain'd. After the tumult of that blust'ring day; In company with blithe Experience; Truth sought his usual recreation for The midnight hour; and in his self-wrought path, Which he, and none beside, had often trod; They reach'd the fav'rite mountain's summit. There Within a fragrant arbor deck'd with vines Of spicy sweetness, and luxuriant flow'rs — With boughs which bent beneath the luscious weight Of rich, delicious fruit, in mellowness That mock'd decay; Truth and his brother sat Like monarchs o'er the scenes beneath their feet. "Would'st thou behold a lovely Seraph's face, And hear instruction flowing from the lips Of an inhabitant of yonder sphere?" Said Truth Experience' smiling countenance, With approbative silence, spoke consent; When Truth, with eye uprais'd invokingly Pour'd his effusion thus, 252 POEMS. Fly, fly Spirit, fly, Thou Seraph in light; While the stars are on high To sanctify night: Come down in thy beauty, And yield us a charm- Let us bask in thy glory, And gaze on thy form. Come, come to thy bower — The vines are in bloom — Each Eden-like flower Is rife with perfume. The fair boughs are bending With rich mellow fruit — Soft zephyrs are blending, To hail thy salute. O come, Spirit come — Heav'n's portals are wide: Why should'st thou at home Forever abide? Come, come to thy arbor, Thy sweet scented bow'r; 'Tis grievous to harbor Thy absence, an hour. Thou cherish'd above, In sinless domains; Where th' spirit of Love Eternally reigns. poems. 253 Thy music has measure, Earth seldom has known: O come; we will treasure Each full meaning tone. O Thou, of that throne Which Seraphs surround; Where light is thy zone, With majesty crown'd: Thou mighty Eternal, O now send her forth, Whose*form is supernal — Whose nature, all worth. The invocation gently rose upon The light ethereal wave, like incense borne From off the holy altar, when its fire Consumes an unadulterated gift, By sacred hands spread out in sacrifice: When lo! obedient to the pray'r of Truth; A form, of more than mortal beauty, came, Descending on a lucid azure ray — A heavenly nymph! 'Twas Wisdom — Wisdom's self- The uncreated, true original Of ev'ry counterfeit of excellence — Of ev'ry ideal form, and fairy shape That calls for worshippers; from Pallas and Minerva, deities immortaliz'd With ancient Grecian fame; e'en down to her, Proud England's present royal Queen, the last Of worship'd idols of imperial courts. 254 POEMS. She came: — Her awe inspiring dignity, O'er the warm heart of young Experience; Spread an o'erpow'ring charm — a spell of fear And sweet astonishment, until he was Insensibly entranc'd: his pulses died Away; and life with him was ebbing low, Until the genial, life inspiring voice Of Wisdom — the sweet incense of her breath — Her gentle, placid tones — her whispers soft And bland; restor'd him back to consciousness And free reciprocating thought; and then She smil'd upon him. That one smile, had more Of the true spirit of Philosophy, And more of Inspiration, than the whole Grey catalogue of grim astrologers That ever wav'd the dubious magic wand; And more than e'er evaporated thro' The tripod screen of Delphi's oracle. 'Twas full of meaning, grac'd with common-sense; And 'neath its potent, fascinating charm, The youth, restor'd to vigor, and endow'd With strength, and gifts, and faculties, that he, 'Till then, had not possess'd; sat meekly down At Wisdom's feet: and she address'd him thus: " Brother, I call thee such, for such thou wert To me in yonder world, from whence we came, And where I still abide; except at times, I come to Truth to cheer his loneliness, And watch, unseen, about your youthful steps. Your recollection, now adapted to POEMS. 255 Your present state; has lost its former hold On things eternal, and has dropp'd the claim By which you held me in fraternal bonds Beside thee, in our social native home. There kindred love exists. Affection's ties Are sever'd — consanguinity divox'c'd, When e'er a spirit condescends to come To tabernacle with the sons of men, But not forever : When the living clay, By death is smitten, and returns to dust; The spirit, back again, instinctive flies Home to its loving, lov'd associates. And now, young Brother; since thy days are few On earth; let me admonish you in love, Cling to your brother's standard— ever be With him, when in nocturnal silence, he Seeks intercourse with that Intelligence Who is from everlasting, and who will To everlasting ages yet remain. And when Truth comes for converse here with me, On things ineffable; come thou. Seek too; And thou, too often canst not seek, the grave Society of chaste Reflection. Though Her deeply penetrating eye, at times Is shrouded with the dew of sadness, and Her speech may sometimes savor of reproof; Her words are fraught with usefulness — her soul Is near allied to mine. Thus, as thy years 256 POEMS. Shall multiply, thy nature shall expand; And when old Age shall place his coronet, Stamp'd with the burnish'd seal of Honor, on Your head; the heav'ns in approbativeness, Will send me down, with thee again to share Those kindred ties of close affinity, Which held us in relationship before. And even now, amid the recklessness Of your unpractis'd, young, and scanty years; Through humble supplication, fervently Prefer' d to yonder throne invisible; You may call down my presence. I will spread A halo luminous around thy feet, And breathe rich music to your inmost soul." She said no more: but with a sweetly bland, And sisterly affection; printed on The cheek of each, a tender parting kiss, And took her upward flight. With mutual looks That told too well, a tale of deep regret, The brothers cast a farewell, ling'ring look At the departing Seraph; then arose, And cours'd their homeward way; and as They went. Experience serenaded thus: Richer than the pearls which ocean Treasures in its ample bed; Is each cherish'd, sweet emotion, Wisdom gently deigns to shed. POEMS. 257 Wisdom has no false attraction — Pure and spotless is her soul; When she stimulates to action, Hers is no usurp'd control. Onward, Time! thy chariot hasten — Let the scenes of life awake : When their keen corrosives chasten Me, I'll smile, for Wisdom's sake. Welcome Age: I'll hail our union As a point replete with gain, If thro' thee, a full communion, I with Wisdom, shall obtain. Bind thy wreath about my temples- Place thy signet on my brow — On my cheek, thy furrow-dimples, Plant, where blood is coursing now. If she loves the hoary headed, Let me be what Wisdom loves: Let my nature all be wedded To whatever she approves. By her heav'nly precepts guided— With her counsel for my shield : All my efforts, undivided, Shall for Truth, the falchion wield. 23 258 poems. CHAPTER FOURTH. Contents.— 27ie hall of Prejudice— A conversation— Consterna- tion enters and announces the progress of Truth, etc. — Sundry measures proposed for the support of Error— The Convention appoints Deceit to devise measures, and adjourns for his deliberation— Is reassembled, and the plans divulged, which are applauded by a motion for immediate execution— The Convention dissolves -The care of Stupidity for Error— A description of him— Description of his wife, Content— She commences a Sonnet— Error's approval -She concludes the Sonnet. In the grand, spacious hall of Prejudice, Built in that olden form of architect, The Tuscan order, of anterior date, A caucus was convened: and, speeches there Of senatorian length — spun out, with skill Congressional; reverberating roll'd Their wordy force along the marble walls. Opinions in a sanguine torrent flow'd, While arguments, unutter'd and unform'd With crude, contingent cogitations, groan 'd For utterance: while thoughts compres'd revolved Like fever'd madness, 'round the throbbing brain. When lo! a messenger in fearful haste, (A haste betok'ning evil tidings borne;) With wild, distorted features, and with hair DishevePd recklessly upon the breeze; Was seen approaching; and anon, unask'd And with a rude, unceremonious step, Abruptly mingled in the Council hall. POEMS. 259 " This honorable body will excuse (Said Consternation, while the looks of all Bespoke anxiety the most intense) This interruption: I'm expressly sent By Disappointment, to announce to you, Altho' unwelcome be the news; what has Of late transpir'd upon the borders of This province." Superstition, who had been By vote called to the presidency of That sitting Council; bade the messenger Proceed. " There's been a mighty falling off Along the borders of your wide domain. Increasing still — the dread contagion of Apostacy is spreading far and wide — Like fires in Autumn, that have broken loose Upon the meadow, when its herbage, scath'd With nightly frosts, is of its verdure shorn ; Threat'ning depopulation to the realm Where Prejudice presides. Huge multitudes, By flight precipitate, adhere to Truth, And gather 'round the standard he has rais'd In opposition to your noble prince, The royal, high born Error. Error will Be left without supporters, if perchance, The growing mischief cannot be subdued. The blast which Falsehood's fruitful forge propel'd, Is now producing a reaction, rife With more of evil than of good to us: 260 POEMS. For through the influence of its thundering noise, So long and loud; Investigation has Been fiercely rous'd, and all his faculties Exerted, which, of course, preponderate Against ourselves; and he is now abroad; And with his presence fascination seems Most firmly and inseparably wove; And to his person delegates a pow'r, That predisposes to the side of Truth." When Consternation's narrative was done, A deep'ning groan thro' the assembly mov'd; And sombre clouds, like morning mists that hide The distant landscape from the view, bespread O'er ev'ry phiz except the laughing brow Of wild Enthusiasm. Her recklessness Drew from old Superstition's rigid soul, A sharp rebuke. Deeply encompass'd with That kind of sanctimonious dignity Which silence' spell creates — profusely clad In his imperial and un diminish 'd robe, The honor' d Error sat. Old Prejudice, With stern indignity, appear'd to scorn A shade of sorrow. But poor Ign'rance' heart, Of other texture— cast in softer mould— Yearn'd, as a mother's heart is wont to yearn O'er helpless imbecility. Her tears, In close succession, chas'd each other down Her placid cheek. POEMS. 261 Thus for a long, long space, The Council sat; while o'er a motley crowd Of feelings, and a wild variety Of thoughts, that gather'd into huddled heaps, A murky silence brooded: Till at length, The stable-soul'd Tradition — sage with years, Whose steadfast and undeviating mind Had never felt a change: arose, and thus Address'd the waiting audience. " My friends, Let not the unattested fol de rol, Which you this day have heard, occasion you Too much alarm. The recent efforts which Stern Bigotry, coercing Falsehood, made; I was and still am well aware, are such As Folly and young Indiscretion would Inspire. Our cause is everlasting, for 'Tis bas'd upon those changeless principles Which I inculcate — principles, which like My nature, are immovable; and as My nature, free from innovation; and Needs not those vollies of redundant means That have enlisted you their services. Why should the lovely face of nature be Distorted, and our sunny skies obscur'd, And the soft spicy gales that gently dance Upon the lucid atmosphere, be put In such intolerable rage, and wild 262 poems. Commotion, by the foul and madd'ning blast, Which emanates from Falsehood's dark recess? My single arm is all sufficient to Perpetuate this kingdom and insure Endless duration to our regency." Old Party-zeal, who, like a tremor, sat Beneath Tradition's speech — his sightless balls, Like spheres disorganiz'd, that burst the bounds Prefix'd by nature to define their course, And lawlessly emerge abroad; roll'd round With vagrant motion; while his bony limbs Shook tremulously, by the phrenzy of His deep impassioned spirit, thus arous'd To tones impetuous; hastily arose, And clos'd Tradition's brief oration, with The fevid introduction of his own. " I claim your audience. My soul is stir'd Within me, that this honorable hall Should be saluted, and its echoing base, And speaking columns, forc'd to iterate With such laconic, dull, dispassionate Harangues, in an emergency like this. Pshaw! who could think your august presence would Be call'd to witness propositions, such As have been laid before you? What! Shall we, At this important juncture in affairs, Dispense with Falsehood's most efficient skill? We might as well relinquish Error's self, As silence such promoters of his cause, poems. 263 As Falsehood, Slander, Calumny, Abuse, Deceit and Ignorance and Prejudice, With all our royal line of royalties; Relying solely on the agency Of old Tradition. Not that I intend To underrate his services. I know They have been, and are still of great account. His precepts are most honorably firm; And he is like a stately pillar in This commonwealth: he stands unmoved, amid The fiercest blast— he's able to repel E'en Truth himself, in single combat join'd; But now, too formidable are our foes — By far too numerous — they are too much Control'd by wise Investigation, to Be foil'd without our concentrated force. Then surely, let us summons ev'ry one That wears the crest of Lucifer, and is By him commissioned to perform in war. Let Bigotry arouse and stand at helm, To nerve the arm of Falsehood to put forth Redoubled blasts. Let Persecution draw His crimson'd bow, and all ye Furies, rise- Without delay, perform your midnight works! Spare not the face of nature — heed it not Though sunny skies and balmy gales, and all The silken joys of sweet repose, are doom'd To be annihilated by your tread — Push on— the end will sanctify the means- Be potv'r your right — let force the right decide." 264 poems. Thus Party-zeal closed up the fervor of The warm effusion of his heated brain. His speech was follow'd by a clam'rous shout Of joy. Enthusiasm was frantical, But Superstition call'd for order; and It was propos'd that measures for defense, And measures of aggression too, such as Would suit exigences; should be prescrib'd. The Council mov'd — 'twas seconded and pass'd. "That, as Deceit had signaliz'd himself In desp'rate cases heretofore; that he Devise such plans of operation as His judgment shall direct, to govern us In future — plans of operation to Secure ourselves, and overthrow the pow'r Of Truth." The Council then adjourn'd until Deceit had leisurely applied his thoughts To schemes — to ruminations intricate: And when he fixed his eye upon the point, That seem'd to grasp the grand accomplishment Of what he wish'd; he drew his purpose forth, With all the ease and all the recklessness, That masters of the little art draw out From its entanglements, the " puzzling chain." His plans matured— the Council re-convened; And he deliberately spread them forth; In matter and in manner following: " Error must be again committed to poems. 265 The oversight of old Stupidity; That Prejudice and Ignorance may go Abroad, to do their handy work — to wrap Their sombre veils about the senses; thus To shackle Intellect, and fix a bolt Upon proud Understanding's citadel; E'en though Sincerity, her azure seal May place indubitably on the heart. Thus will they hold beyond the reach of Truth, Each intellectual organ; and close up The avenues of Common-sense, and spread A net, to meet and baffle all the skill Of bold Investigation. Falsehood, then, May pour his smoking, burning lava forth Without reserve, and fill the 'itching ears.' This measure will secure our strength : and then Means must be put in progress, to subdue The pow'r of Truth and his adherents. Let Our haughty Pride take Envy, his belov'd, With all their children, Avarice and Hate, And their huge brother Jealousy, whose eyes Of green and livid hue, protrude beyond Their own digressing orbits— and Distrust, And Selfishness; and let them also take Their whole domestic retinue — a host Of valitudinarians, that feed, And feast themselves at others' cost. And then 24 266 poems. To grace their num'rous train, and to perfect Their work; a priest or priestess must go forth With them; for vain is all the influence Exerted yet; without the sacred garb Of piety. Dissimulation wears, Wi^h easy grace, the sacerdotal gown: He prays like Abel, and performs like Cain: Therefore let him be duly authoriz'd To act in holy things — and let him join Himself unto the kindred, household band Of Pride and Envy. Let them colonize In yonder province — in the very heart Of that dense population. Stilly as The breath of midnight softly glides upon The wings of darkness; imperceptibly They'll undermine the solid basement of Herculean Union, who maintains, within His hold, the massy keys of God-like strength. His mansion shaken— Union will depart; And ere pale Envy's infant Discord shall Arrive to manhood's height, he will maintain, By dint of firm possession, for his own Inheritance, and at his own behest; A rich estate, beneath the busy eye Of tall Inquiry." When the speaker clos'd; As subterranean gases— long confin'd, Ignited, burst with a tremendous roar; So rang the shout of approbation, through POEMS. 267 That spacious hall. E'en Superstition spoke His warm approval to the plans propos'd; And he confess'd Deceit had usher'd forth An effigy of Wisdom— not his own. But the squint-eyed Suspicion watched Deceit, And saw him turn and laugh in secrecy, While to himself, he mutter'd rhapsodies Of sly intent. The Council then proposed A forthwith execution of the schemes Just laid before it: And without delay, With buoyant hearts, the splendid colonists Took their departure for the sphere assign'd To them. The vehicle of Fashion, too, Was call'd in requisition; and the steed • Of Popularity, caparison'd With gaudy strings of shining ornaments — With nimble feet, and nostrils snuffing air; Was harness'd to the waiting vehicle: And Prejudice and Ignorance, anon Were mounted there. The sage Tradition sat Lowly in front, and grasp'd the gorgeous reins; When swift as eagles on the lucid air, With eager haste their plumy pinions ply; Smoothly and swiftly roll'd the chariot on, And bath'd its glitt'ring wheels, in golden beams. The caucus rising, separated; and Stupidity, with most dispassionate 268 POEMS. Composure, then address'd himself to the Requir'd attendance on his precious charge. There's nothing moves upon affection's cord With softer touch, or in a heart that beats With sensitive emotion; wakens more Of unaffected tenderness, than the Lone watch o'er sleeping, helpless innocence. Stupidity, to cradle nurs'ries rear'd; Had watch'd o'er Error's earliest infancy; And all the warmth his passive nature knew, Had been from time to time arous'd, until His own existence seem'd itself, to be With Error's being, intricately join'd. But then, Stupidity was not alone Without a mate — he had his "better half" — His dear Content — the partner he had wooed In early boyhood. Though she was of birth More noble than himself; and might have grac'd A higher walk — have rank'd with royalty, And smil'd where princely lords affect to smile By her consent: and though she might have dwelt With her twin-sister, the deep-soul'd Content, The fair and noble form that ever dwells Affectionately in the blest abode Of Usefulness and Virtue; she had cleign'd To be his own; and in the evenness Of his career, forego the envied height That crowns the halls of bright Activity. And ever since their first espousal, she POEMS. 269 Adheres to him, with all the constancy Of love effeminate. With her sweet voice — So near allied to silence, that its strains Scarce urg'd a motion, tremulous, on air: She, singing thus, caress'd his hours away. SONNET. Error has a charm to bless— Error's presence we possess; Dearer far, than Happiness, Is Stupidity. Ail Enjoyment's boasted reign, Is but a reprieve from pain; And she crowns the broad domain Of Stupidity. Ours, are joys that come unbought With the coin of tedious thought — Pleasures flow, unask'd, unsought, Through Stupidity. Each emotion of the breast — Ev'ry passion, lull'd to rest: With unconscious ease impres'd, Is Stupidity. Get you hence — ye works of Art, With the treasures you impart — Let me press me to the heart Of Stupidity. 270 POEMS. Let Refinement come not here — Nor Intelligence draw near To the sphere— the blessed sphere Of Stupidity. He is faithful to his trust — Books may moulder — tools may rust — All Improvement lick the dust, With Stupidity. O Stupidity, my Love: Thou art gentle as the dove — None but Error ranks above Thee, Stupidity. Thus sang Content; while on his downy mat, At Error's feet, her spouse reclining lay — Breathless and motionless, lest lucklessly, Her strains so sweet, and so congenial to His feelings, might perchance, escape his ear, As they were gliding from her gentle tongue. Error was pleas'd: He smil'd, and bowing down To catch the ling'ring echo of the strain That died away; as nature's pulses die, Arnid the melting, sultry noon-day heat Of a hot summer's sun; he slyly pres'd A stealthy kiss upon the dimpled cheek Of the dispassionately fond Content. Encourag'd by the condescension of A being thus rever'd: with louder tones, POEMS. 271 She clos'd the music of her minstrelsy. List to the strain: Error's foes will not prevail: All the pow'rs of Truth will fail, If he treads within the pale Of Stupidity. Should Investigation roam Here; he'll be but ill at home; Let him not essay to come Near Stupidity. Prejudice and Ignorance Will environ Common-sense, And secure the strong defence Of Stupidity. Then, O Error, let thy breast Be with sweet repose imprest: Multitudes, with thee, will rest, Great Stupidity. 272 poems. CHAPTER FIFTH. Contents. — The friends of Truth are convened to discuss sub- jects interesting to him and his cause— Investigation returns from an excursion — He conducts Discernment and Intelli gence into the edifice, where Truth is seated in audience — Lays the package of Intelligence on the table — After various discussions, Experience maUes a speech, containing instruc- tions for their future benefit — Truth suggests the immediate supplanting of the colony of Pride, recently planted in their midst, by the friends of Error — The Poem concludes with the Ode of Genius to Truth. The friends of Truth, were congregated in A spacious edifice, that nobly rear'd Its tow 'ring disk, beside the mountain, where Truth's banner wav'd; to hear and to be heard, In deep discussions, long and intricate; Involving thoughts elaborately turn'd Upon the nature, origin, and the Grand destination of immortal Truth ; While his own self presided. His pure mind Was so securely fortified against That vanity of feeling, and of thought, That reigns inherent in the human heart; That he could sit in judgment, and decide Upon the merits of discussions, when His merits were discuss'd. Inquiry, too, Was present; and his consort Knowledge, sat poems. 273 With close attention, silent by his side. Thought freely was exchang'd; and sentiments Of richest texture, liberally were, From num'rous fountains, flowing in a stream Of unaffected reciprocity. From an excursion, which had been perform'd With much of honor to himself, and some Advantage to the onward cause of Truth; Investigation had return'd: but scarce Had leisure time to rest himself from the Dull weight of weariness, and to regale His appetite upon the viands which Economy had plac'd before him; ere Discernment, who had been by Truth employ'd To watch events as they transpired abroad; Return'd, and with her, came Intelligence, Her'*faithful escort. When "an interview, Between them and Investigation, had Ensued; Investigation rose, and with A hasty step; conducted them to the Saloon, where Truth was~then in audience Deliberately seated — where the voice Of bland Experience, with eloquence, Replete with learning's master music; hush'd To sleep, the god of Silence: He awoke, And Silence rose to pay respectfully His most "appropriate addresses to Investigation; whose hale presence drew, From all his friends, a liberal respect: And consequently, from his enemies, 274 poems. A cold, repulsive, deferential awe, The nearest kin to Hate. The greetings o'er — Investigation spread the package of Intelligence upon the table, and Announc'd the circumstances that occur'd Beneath the influence of motions pass'd, And resolutions put in practice, in The Council Hall of Prejudice, and were Discover'd thro' Discernment's optic-glass. The hostile movements, which were going on, Requir'd the most efficient means applied By Perseverance' firm, untiring hand. Experience, who had of late, increas'd In stature, as in years; and frequently Free converse held with Wisdom; was requir'd To say what he opined would most conduce To public benefit. He then arose, And thus address'd the waiting audience: "Most worthy friends, let not your hearts despond By reason of the articles contain'd In the last bundle of Intelligence. 'Midst all the tumults and commotions— 'midst The storms of war that on our borders rage Most rudely and relentlessly; it seems That Fortune, though she frowns on us at times; In the event, will ever potently Incline her balance in our favor. Hosts poems. 275 Of immigrants continually flow From yonder vale, to share the blessings of Our pure, salubrious, heav'nly climate. Much, Investigation, by his arduous toils, Thro' Perseverance' genial aid; has done In our behalf. But let us not relax Our efforts, short of the accomplishment Of what should be accomplish'd: Let us not Fall short of the entire attainment of The highest point that is attainable. Since Prejudice and Ignorance are bent To use their utmost influence, they must Be met by strength and skill commensurate. They are our great antagonists : for by Their pow'r and their unceasing diligence, All other foes of ours, now draw support. Error will reign—and reign so long as he, By the deep hidden strength of Prejudice And Ignorance, shall be upheld. Each dart That's aim'd at him, falls light and harmlessly— By him unheeded and unfelt; while thus By them he is sustain'd. Therefore, arise, Investigation, and once more go forth With your beloved Candor: Go, and chase Them from our borders— drive them home Into their secret lurking-place, and smite Them there. Then, like a mountain, undermin'd, The mighty Error will come tumbling down; And make the nations tremble with his fall. But to precede those all important deeds, 276 poems. Inquiry must display his tactic skill In the destruction of that false Content, Around whose fairy-shapen image, twine The very heart strings of Stupidity; And on whose music's sweet, delusiye sound, His life's dull pulses move unconsciously. Let her be stricken from existence, and The charm, by which she holds him, be destroy'd; And he will mount the morning mist, and fly, Like an autumnal, wither'd leaf, away Into Oblivion's dusky vale, and, seek, In that recess, where my great name-sake finds His chosen residence; a resting place. Then will long sleeping Intellect arouse, And concentrating her awaken'd pow'rs; Will aid the wise Investigation, in The consummation of his sacred work. 'Tis an important business, and cannot Be done in darkness: therefore, thou, O Truth, Must give thy sanction— yes, and more than that— Thou must go with us, and dispense the light Which radiates from thy glowing countenance; To shield us from the dark, disguis'd attacks Of midnight's foul assassins. Say, O Truth, Shall we thus aid Investigation? Shall We all be colleagues in this enterprise? Appro vest thou the scheme I have prescrib'd? " POEMS. Experience gracefully resum'd his seat, And ev'ry eye was turn'd inquiringly, Upon the face of Truth, whose features glow'd With full expression. "What Experience has Express'd," said he, "I fully sanction; but There's one consideration, which I would Suggest. That colonizing company, Consisting of the family of Pride And his attendants; which Discernment saw Prepar'd for a location in our midst, To undermine our Union; now requires Our prompt — our first attention. Let us then Be on th' alert, and intercept them, ere They, for themselves, a foothold shall secure. >Tis easier, much, to give a rolling stone, A retrogading motion, than to raise It from its planted, moss-grown resting place. Then let us rise with Union, for to rise With Union, is to rise with strength: and thus, Expel those innovations from us; ere They shall obtain the right of residence. For what avails all foreign conquest, when An enemy is lurking in our midst — Preying upon domestic quietude: And through our vital part, the heart of Peace, Diffuses fest'ring seeds of rottenness? We'll join, and drive those renegadoes hence; 278 poems. That when Investigation's vict'ry's won, And all in triumph shall return; fair Peace, With smiles will wave her gentle wand, to bid Us welcome; and with music's holiest strain, Transfer her diadem, to crown our home." Truth closed his speech: A universal nod, Betok'ning approbation, mov'd around Through the assembly. Genius propos'd To grace their separation with an Ode To Truth: and chanted thus, the parting lay. THE ODE OF GENIUS TO TRUTH. I'll sing to thee, O Truth. Thy laws are giv'n For my directory o'er earth and heav'n: I sing of thee — I prize thy presence more Than all the gifts from Learning's richest store: I sing thy praises — thou art all, to me — I crave no pow'r, but what I draw from thee. Eternal beauties in thy features glow, And from thy lips, eternal fountains now: Let the pure lustre of thy radiant eye, Beam thro' my soul, and lift my nature high : The master-strokes that on my pulses roll, Are but the emanations of thy soul. Let the fierce tigress chide her churlish brood- Monster on monster, vent its spiteful mood: poems. 279 Let crawling reptiles of the reptile school, Chastise offenders of their puny rule: Let insects feel the weight of insects' paw, For the transgression of an insect-law: But Truth, thy advocates shall not descend To sordid means, thy honor to defend: And thou, O Truth, wilt not ignobly bend To servile measures, for a noble end. Should lofty Genius strike a feeble string? No: in thy presence, Truth, of Truth I'll sing. Thou art the basis of each worthy theme: Thou art the lustre of each golden beam: Wide as eternity, diffuse thy light, Till joyous day shall burst the shades of night: Benighted Earth illumine with thy rays — The slumb'ring nations waken with thy blaze. In Falsehood's stream, let Error bathe his soul, And Slander bend to Envy's base control: Be thou, O Truth, my arbiter and guide: Beneath thy standard, let my feet abide: Let thy celestial Banner be unfuii'd, Until its crescent circumscribes the world: On Hope's high pinion, write thy burnish'd name, And plant thy signet on the spire of Fame. Go forth, and conquer: All to thee shall bow, And fadeless laurels wreath thy noble brow: The palm of Vict'ry waits to crown thy war — The seal of Triumph, lingers not afar. 280 POEMS. Victorious Truth, thy conq'ring sceptre wield, Till all thy foes in due submission yield — Until Inquiry spreads himself abroad, And Knowledge smiles to his instinctive nod — Till Party-zeal is shrouded with disgrace, And Superstition hides his lengthen'd face — Till old Stupidity is forc'd to fly — Till Ignorance and Prejudice shall die — Till pompous Error, vanquished, licks the dust, And princely Falsehood, fires his smoking bust; Then, shall thy fiat hold the world in awe, While ev'ry Isle exults to hear thy law: Strong, as Omnipotence, thy arm shall prove, And as Eternal as the throne above. POEMS. 281 FUNERAL OF PRESIDENT BRIGHAM YOUNG. [The death of President Brig ham Young occurred on the 29th of Aug. 1877, two months after the foregoing Manuscript was sent to Press.'] That morning dawned as bright and beautiful As morning ever dawned. The sun rose clear. The day was glorious; but Zion wept! The sound of grief was heard in all her courts! The Church had lost a Guide: Humanity, An able Advocate — Mankind, a Friend. &- $ $ * % » * From morn till morn, the body lay in state And thousands came, a tribute of respect To pay, and take a last— a parting view Of the illustrious dead. The funeral rites Were on the Sabbath day. At service hour, The spacious Tabernacle densely filled, Was thronged by anxious multitudes without: Within, one vacant Chair remained Enrobed in folds of solemn drapery! The "Tenth Ward Band" commenced the services- The Choir and Organ sweetly sang and played; 25 282 POEMS. But his, the most appreciative ear, No longer listened. Decked with pure white flowers, Hallow 'd with tear-drops from the eyes of those Whose skilful hands, prompted by loving hearts, In wreaths entwined them; there the coffin stood, Encasing the cold form of him, who'd been Attraction's centre; and the cheering voice Which had, for years, with winning eloquence, The power to draw, command and rivet the Attention of an audience, was still! And mourning sat on every countenance, As though the lights of earth had all gone out, And left a calm — an all pervading calm. But men of God were there — men who had "borne With him, the heat and burden of the day." Apostles, Prophets, Revelators, Seers, Brave, noble men, whose hearts had never quailed: Who knew no fear when times were perilous. But now, when speaking of their leader's worth — Their love for him— their loss, and Zion's loss; The firm lip quiver'd, and the dew of grief, Beneath their eye-lids gather'd. Strong men wept! But when their thoughts reached upward and the light Of the Almighty's Spirit beamed upon Their sorrowing hearts, in God-like majesty They rose superior to the mournful scene. They knew the work that Brigham Young, so long, With master mind and skill had pioneered, POEMS. 283 Was God's — that He, his servants, heretofore, Had clothed with power and wisdom, and He now Would others clothe upon, and bear them off Triumphantly. Then the bold eloquence Of truth, when crowned with might and majesty, Flowed from their lips to that vast audience, And the bright rainbow of immortal life, Appeared in beauty o'er the cloud of grief; And rays of joy ineffable, beamed forth. Electrified by influence divine, Wrapped in the future, men forgot to weep. * * * * •:•:- * •* The Tabernacle service closed — Anon The grand procession formed in order, and Moved slowly onward to the waiting tomb. All Israel were mourners; but the corse Was followed by a num'rous weeping train Of those, by dear and filial ties, his own. Their hearts were stricken, sad, and desolate, As they moved slowly to the burial Of him, the husband— father— friend, and all Of mortal trust — the guardian of their lives; Whose presence formed the sunshine of their hearts. Ne'er was a father more affectionate Nor yet an earthly father more beloved. ThoWh he was full of years, their fond hopes gave Them promise of his life for years to come. But death came suddenly, and suddenly To them their earthly aims became a blank! 284 poems. They felt as all bereft — that all was gone! It seemed to them, the wheels of Time stood still, And every pulse of Nature ceased to move. On, slowly on, the great procession moved To the repository of the dead — A site reserved on his own premises Where kindred dust is sleeping side by side: There, in a new, a pure white sepulchre, The coffin, with its precious charge, was placed. The "Glee Club" stood beside the tomb, and sang A favorite hymn of the departed one. Then an Apostle knelt: In fervent prayer He dedicated to the Lord our God, And, for the safe, and undisturbed repose Of all, now sleeping — all that there shall sleep; The sepulchre — the coffin and its sacred trust — The ground, and its enclosure 'round about. There sleeps the weary flesh, and rests in peace, While he, the master spirit of the age, Associates with ta e first great leader of This Dispensation, in the courts above. He loved his people — Their high destiny Will be a monument to BMGHAM YOUNG. I rrrrr^JS^gJEEa Date Due All library items are subject to recall at any time. m 05 20 1 IAR 2 9 2007 app a o ?nna APR 2 5 ?nOB AP? 9 0 " rtti 0 2 201 J OC I 0 7 201 Brigham Young University 3 1197 00363 3531